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THE SILVER BOX 



BY 

JOHN GALSWORTHY 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

NEW YORK AND LONDOxM 

^be Iknicfterbocftcr {press 
1909 



THE SILVER BOX 



BY 

JOHN GALSWORTHY 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 

Zbc Iknicfterbocftcr ^xcbb 
1909 



T^vo Coyies Received 

1^1 AR M 1809 



I 5 ^^3 



AXc ;mo, 



Copyright, 1909 

BY 

JOHN GALSWORTHY 



TEbe ftnicfjerbocftcr ^re8«, "ttcw Ifforfc 



THE SILVER BOX 

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



PERSONS OF THE PLAY 

John Barthwick, M.P., a wealthy Liberal 

Mrs. Barthwick, his wife 

Jack Barthwick, their son 

Roper, their solicitor 

Mrs. Jones, their charwoman 

Marlow, their manservant 

Wheeler, their maidservant 

Jones, tlie stranger within their gates 

Mrs. Seddon, a landlady 

Snow, a detective 

A Police Magistrate 

An Unknown Lady, from beyond 

Two Little Girls, homeless 

Livens, their father 

A Relieving Officer 

A Magistrate's Clerk 

An Usher 

Policemen, Clerks, and Others 

TIME: The present. The action of the first two Acts takes 
place on Easter Tuesday; the action of the third on Easter 
Wednesday week. 

ACT I., SCENE I. Rockingham Gate. John Barthwick' s 
dining-room. 
SCENE II. The same. 
SCENE III. The same. 

ACT II., SCENE I. The Jones's lodgings, Merthyr Street. 
SCENE II. John Barthwick' s dining-room. 

ACT III. A London police court. 



CAST OF THE ORIGINAL PRODUCTION AT 
THE EMPIRE THEATRE, NEW YORK, 
ON 



John Barthwick, M.P. 

Mrs. Barthwick 

Jack Barthwick 

Roper 

Mrs. Jones 

Marlow 

Wheeler . 

Jones . 

Mrs. Seddon 

Snow . 

Julius Holden, A 

Police Magistrate 

An Unknown Lady 

Two Little Girls 

Livens 

Clerk op Court 
Relieving Officer 
Swearing Clerk 
Constable . 

Policemen, Clerks, 



Eugene Jepson 
Hattie Russell 
Harry Redding 
William Sampson 
Ethel Barrymore 
William Evans 
Anita Rothe 
Bruce McRae 
Fanny L. Burt 
James Kearney 

Forrest Robinson 

Mary Nash 
j Dorothy Scherer 
I Helen Mooney 
Soldene Powell 
Louis Eagan 
M. B. Pollock 
John Adolfi 
Harry Barker 
and others 



ACT I 

SCENE I 

The curtain rises on the Barthwick's dining-room, 
large, modern, and well jtunished; the window cur- 
tains drawn. Electric light is burning. On the 
large round dining-table is set out a tray with 
whisky, a sypJwn, and a silver cigarette-box. It is 
past midnight. 

A fumbling is heard outside the door. It is opened sud- 
denly; Jack Barthwick seems to fall into the 
room. He stands holding by the door knob, staring 
before him, with a beatific smile. He is in evening 
dress and opera hat, and carries in his hand a sky- 
blue velvet lady's reticule. His boyish face is 
freshly coloured and clean-shaven. An overcoat is 
hanging on his arm. 

Jack. Hello! I 've got home all ri [Defiantly.] 

Who says I sh 'd never 've opened th' door without 
'sistance. [He staggers in, fumbling with the reticule. 
A lady's handkerchief and purse of crimson silk fall 
out.] Serve her joll' well right— everything droppin' 
out. Th' cat. I 've scored her off— I 've got her bag. 
[He swings the reticule.] Serves her joll' well right. 
[He takes a cigarette out of the silver box and puts it in his 
mouth.] Never gave tha' fellow anything! [He 
hunts through all his pockets and pulls a shilling out; it 

5 



6 The Silver Box act i 

drops and rolls away. He looks for it.] Beastly shil- 
ling! [He looks again.] Base ingratitude! Abso- 
lutely nothing. [He laughs.] Mus' tell him I 've got 
absolutely nothing. 

[He lurches through the door and down a 
corridor, and presently returns, followed by 
Jones, who is advanced in liquor. Jones, 
about thirty years of age, has hollow cheeks, 
black circles round his eyes, and rusty 
clothes. He looks as though he might be 
unemployed, and enters in a hang-dog 
manner.] 
Jack. Sh! sh! sh! Don't you make a noise, 
whatever you do. Shu' the door, an' have a 
drink. [Very solemnly.] You helped me to open 
the door — I 've got nothin, for you. This is my 
house. My father's name's Barthwick; he's 
Member of Parliament — Liberal Member of Par- 
liament: I 've told you that before. Have a drink! 
[He pours out whisky and drinks it up.] I 'm 

not drunk [Subsiding on a sofa.] Tha 's 

all right. Wha 's your name? My name 's Barth- 
wick, so 's my father's; /'ma Liberal too — ^wha 're 
you? 

Jones. [In a thick, sardonic voice.] I 'm a 
bloomin' Conserz;a/iw, My name 's Jones! Mj^ wife 
works 'ere; she 's the char; she works 'ere. 

Jack. Jones? [He laughs.] There 's 'nother Jones 
at College with me. I 'm not a Socialist myself; 
I 'm a Liberal — there 's ve-lill difference, because of 
the principles of the Lib — Liberal Party. We 're 
all equal before the law — tha 's rot, tha 's silly. 
[Laughs.] Wha' was I about to say? Give me some 
whisky. 



sc. I The Silver Box 7 

[Jones gives him the whisky he desires, to- 
gether with a squirt of syphon.] 
Wha' I was goin' tell you was — I 've had a row with 
her. [He waves the reticule.] Have a drink, Jones — • 
sh 'd never have got in without you — tha 's why I 'm 
giving you a drink. Don' care who knows I 've 
scored her off. Th' cat! [He throws his feet up on 
the sofa.] Don' you make a noise, whatever you do. 
You pour out a drink — you make yourself good long, 
long drink — you take cigarette — you take anything 
you like. Sh 'd never have got in without you. 
[Closing his eyes.] You 're a Tory — you 're a Tory 
Socialist. I 'm Liberal myself — have a drink — I 'm 
an excel'nt chap. 

[His head drops hack. He, smiling, falls 

asleep, and Jones stands looking at him; 

then, snatching up Jack's glass, he drinks 

it off. He picks the reticule from off Jack's 

shirt-front, holds it to the light, and smells 

at it.] 

Jones. Been on the tiles and brought 'ome some 

of yer cat's fur. [He stuffs it into Jack's breast 

pocket.] 

Jack. [Murmuring.] I 've scored you off! You 
cat! 

[Jones looks around him furtively; he pours 

out whisky and drinks it. From the silver 

box he takes a cigarette, puffs at it, and 

drinks more whisky. There is no sobriety 

left in him.] 

Jones. Fat lot o' things they've got 'ere! [He 

sees the crimson purse lying on the floor.] More cat's 

fur. Puss, puss! [He fingers it, drops it on the tray, 

and looks at Jack.] Calf! Fat calf! [He sees his 



8 The Silver Box act i 

own presentment in a mirror. Lifting his hands, with 
fingers spread, he stares at it; then looks again at Jack, 
clenching his fist as if to batter in his sleeping, smiling 
face. Suddenly he tilts the rest of the whisky into the 
glass and drinks it. With cunning glee he takes the 
silver box and purse and pockets them.] I '11 score you 
off too, that 's wot I '11 do! 

[He gives a little snarling laugh and lurches to 
the door. His shoulder rubs against the 
switch; the light goes out. There is a sound 
as of a closing outer door.] 

The curtain falls. 

The curtain rises again at once. 

SCENE II 

In the Barthwick's dining-room. Jack is still asleep; 
the morning light is coming through the curtains. 
The time is half-past eight. Wheeler, brisk per- 
son enters with a dust-pan, and Mrs. Jones more 
slowly with a scuttle. 

Wheeler. [Drawing the curtains.] That precious 
husband of yours was round for you after you 'd gone 
yesterday, Mrs. Jones. Wanted your money for drink, 
I suppose. He hangs about the corner here half 
the time. I saw him outside the "Goat and Bells" 
when I went to the post last night. If I were you I 
would n't live with him. I would n't live with a man 
that raised his hand to me. I would n't put up with 
it. Why don't you take your children and leave 
him ? If you put up with 'im it '11 only make him 
worse. I never can see why, because a man's mar- 
ried you, he should knock you about. 



sc. II The Silver Box 9 

Mrs. Jones. [Slim, dark-eyed, and dark-haired; 
oval-faced, and with a smooth, soft, even voice; her man- 
ner patient, her way of talking quite impersonal; she 
wears a blue linen dress, and boots with holes.'] It was 
nearly two last night before he come home, and he 
was n't himself. He made me get up, and he knocked 
me about ; he did n't seem to know what he was saying 
or doing. Of course I would leave him, but I 'm 
really afraid of what he 'd do to me. He 's such a 
violent man when he 's not himself. 

Wheeler. Why don't you get him locked up? 
You '11 never have any peace until you get him locked 
up. If I were you I 'd go to the police court to- 
morrow. That 's what I would do. 

Mrs. Jones. Of course I ought to go, because he 
does treat me so badly when he 's not himself. But 
you see, Bettina, he has a very hard time — he 's been 
out of work two months, and it preys upon his mind. 
When he 's in work he behaves himself much better. 
It 's when he 's out of work that he 's so violent. 

Wheeler, Well, if you won't take any steps 
you '11 never get rid of him. 

Mrs. Jones. Of course it 's very wearing to me; I 
don't get my sleep at nights. And it 's not as if I 
were getting help from him, because I have to do 
for the children and all of us. And he throws such 
dreadful thmgs up at me, talks of my having men to 
follow me about. Such a thing never happens; no 
man ever speaks to me. And of course it 's just the 
other way. It 's what he does that 's wrong and 
makes me so unhappy. And then he 's always 
threatenin' to cut my throat if I leave him. It 's all 
the drink, and things preying on his mind; he 's not 
a bad man really. Sometimes he '11 speak quite kind 



lo The Silver Box act i 

to me, but I *ve stood so much from him, I don't feel 
it in me to speak kind back, but just keep myself to 
myself. And he 's all right with the children too, 
except when he 's not himself. 

Wheeler. You mean when he 's drunk, the 
beauty. 

Mrs. Jones. Yes. [Without change of voice.] 
There 's the young gentleman asleep on the sofa. 
[They both look silently at Jack. 

Mrs. Jones. [At last, in her soft voice.] He 
does n't look quite himself. 

Wheeler. He 's a young limb, that 's what he is. 
It *s my belief he was tipsy last night, like your 
husband. It 's another kind of bein' out of work 
that sets him to drink. I '11 go and tell Marlow. 
This is his job. 

[She goes. 
[Mrs. Jones, upon her knees, begins a gentle 
sweeping. 

Jack. [Waking.] Who 's there? What is it? 

Mrs. Jones. It 's me, sir, Mrs. Jones. 

Jack. [Sitthtg up and looking round.] Where is 
it — what — what time is it? 

Mrs. Jones. It 's getting on for nine o'clock, sir. 

Jack. For nine! Why — what! [Rising, and 
loosening his tongue; putting hand to his head, and 
staring hard at Mrs. Jones.] Look here, you, Mrs. 
— Mrs. Jones — don't you say you caught me asleep 
here. 

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, of course I won't sir. 

Jack. It 's quite an accident; I don't know how it 
happened. I must have forgotten to go to bed. It 's 
-a queer thing. I 've got a most beastly headache. 
Mind you don't say anything. Mrs. Jones. 



St- " The Silver Box 



II 



[Goes out and passes Marlow in the doorway. 
Marlow is young and quiet; he is clean- 
shaven, and his hair is brushed high from 
his forehead in a coxcomb. Incidentally 
a butler, he is first a man. He looks at 
Mrs. Jones, and smiles a private smile.] 

Marlow. Not the first time, and won't be the 
last. Looked a bit dicky, eh, Mrs. Jones? 

Mrs. Jones. He did n't look quite himself. Of 
course I did n't take notice. 

Marlow. You 're used to them. How 's your old 
man ? ^ 

Mrs. Jones. [Softly as throughout.] Well, he was 
very bad last night; he did n't seem to know what he 
was about. He was very late, and he was most 
abusive. But now, of course, he 's asleep. 

Marlow. That 's his way of finding a job, eh? 

Mrs. Jones. As a rule, Mr. Marlow, he goes out 
early every morning looking for work, and sometimes 
he comes in fit to drop — and of course I can't say he 
does n't try to get it, because he does. Trade 's very 
bad. [She stands quite still, her pan and brush before 
her, at the beginning and the end of long vistas of expe- 
rience, traversing them with her impersonal eye.] But 
he 's not a good husband to me — last night he hit 
me, and he was so dreadfully abusive. 

Marlow. Bank'oliday, eh! He 's too fond of the 
*'Goat and Bells," that's what's the matter with 
him. I see him at the corner late every night. He 
hangs about. 

Mrs. Jones. He gets to feeling very low walking 
about all day after work, and being refused so often, 
and then when he gets a drop in him it goes to his 
head. But he should n't treat his wife as he treats 



12 The Silver Box act i 

me. Sometimes 1 've had to go and walk about at 
night, when he would n't let me stay in the room ; 
but he 's sorry for it afterwards. And he hangs about 
after me, he waits for me in the street; and I don't 
think he ought to, because I 've always been a 
good wife to him. And I tell him Mrs. Barthwick 
would n't like him coming about the place. But that 
only makes him angry, and he says dreadful things 
about the gentry. Of course it was through me that 
he first lost his place, through his not treating me 
right; and that 's made him bitter against the gentry. 
He had a very good place as groom in the country; 
but it made such a stir, because of course he did n't 
treat me right. 

Marlow. Got the sack? 

Mrs. Jones. Yes; his employer said he couldn't 
keep him, because there was a great deal of talk; 
and he said it was such a bad example. But it 's 
very important for me to keep my work here ; I have 
the three children, and I don't want him to come 
about after me in the streets, and make a disturbance 
as he sometimes does. 

Marlow. [Holding up the empty decanter.] Not a 
drain! Next time he hits you get a witness and go 
down to the court 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, I think I 've made up my mind. 
I think I ought to. 

Marlow. That 's right. Where 's the ciga ? 

\He searches for the silver box; he looks at Mrs. 
Jones, who is sweeping on her hands and 
knees; he checks himself and stands reflecting. 
From the tray he picks two half -smoked 
cigarettes, and reads the name on them.] 
Nestor — where the deuce ? 



sc. II The Silver Box 13 

[With a meditative air he looks again at 
Mrs. Jones, and, taking tip Jack's 
overcoat, he searches in the pockets. 
Wheeler, with a tray of breakfast things, 
conies in. 
Marlow. [Aside to Wheeler.] Have you seen 
the cigarette-box? 
Wheeler. No. 

Marlow. Well, it 's gone. I put it on the tray 
last night. And he 's been smoking. [Showing her 
the ends of cigarettes.] It 's not in these pockets. He 
can't have taken it upstairs this morning! Have a 
good look in his room when he comes down. Who 's 
been in here? 

Wheeler. Only me and Mrs. Jones. 
Mrs. Jones. I've finished here; shall I do the 
drawing-room now? 

Wheeler. [Looking at her doubtfully.] Have 

you seen Better do the boudwower first. 

[Mrs. Jones goes out with pan and brush. 
Marlow and Wheeler look each other in 
the face.] 
Marlow. It '11 turn up. 

Wheeler. [Hesitating.] You don't think she 

[Nodding at the door.] 

Marlow. [Stoutly.] I don't— I never believes 
anything of anybody. 

Wheeler. But the master '11 have to be told. 
Marlow. You wait a bit, and see if it don't turn 
up. Suspicion 's no business of ours. I set my mind 
against it. 

The curtain falls. 

The curtain rises again at once. 



14 The Silver Box act i 

SCENE III 

Barthwick and Mrs. Barthwick are seated at the 
breakfast table. He is a man between fifty and 
sixty; quietly important, with a bald forehead, and 
pince-nez, and the "Times'' in his hand. She is a 
lady of nearly fifty, well dressed, with greyish hair, 
good features, and a decided manner. They face 
each other. 

Barthwick. {From behind his paper.] The La- 
bour man has got in at the by-election for Barnside, 
my dear. 

Mrs. Barthwick. Another Labour ? I can't 
think what on earth the country is about. 

Barthwick. I predicted it. It 's not a matter of 
vast importance. 

Mrs. Barthwick. Not? How can you take it so 
calmly, John? To me it 's simply outrageous. And 
there you sit, you Liberals, and pretend to encourage 
these people! 

Barthwick. [Frowning.] The representation of 
all parties is necessary for any proper reform, for 
any proper social policy. 

Mrs. Barthwick. I 've no patience with your talk 
of reform — all that nonsense about social policy. We 
know perfectly well what it is they want; they want 
things for themselves. Those Socialists and Labour 
men are an absolutely selfish set of people. They 
have no sense of patriotism, like the upper classes; 
they simply want what we 've got. 

Barthwick. Want what we've got! [He stares 
into space.] My dear, what are you talking about? 
[With a contortion.] I 'm no alarmist. 



sc. Ill The Silver Box 15 

Mrs. Barthwick. Cream? Quite uneducated men l 
Wait until they begin to tax our investments. I *m 
convinced that when they once get a chance they 
will tax everything — they 've no feeling for the 
country. You Liberals and Conservatives, you 're 
all alike; you don't see an inch before your noses^ 
You 've no imagination, not a scrap of imaginatioa 
between you. You ought to join hands and nip it in 
the bud. 

Barthwick. You 're talking nonsense! How is 
it possible for Liberals and Conservatives to join 
hands, as you call it? That shows how absurd it is for 
women Why, the very essence of a Liberal is to- 
trust in the people ! 

Mrs. Barthwick. Now, John, eat your breakfast. 
As if there were any real difference between you and 
the Conservatives. All the upper classes have the 
same interests to protect, and the same principles.- 
[Calmly.] Oh! you 're sitting upon a volcano, John. 

Barthwick. ■ What! 

Mrs. Barthwick. I read a letter in the paper yes^ 
terday. I forget the man's name, but it made the 
whole thing perfectly clear. You don't look things 
in the face. 

Barthwick. Indeed! [Heavily.] I am a Lib- 
eral ! Drop the subject, please ! 

Mrs. Barthwick. Toast? I quite agree with 
what this man says : Education is simply ruining the 
lower classes. It unsettles them, and that 's the 
worst thing for us all. I see an enormous difference 
in the manner of servants. 

Barthwick. [With suspicious emphasis.] I wel- 
come any change that will lead to something better. 
[He opens a letter.] H 'm! This is that affair of 



1 6 The Silver Box act i 

Master Jack's again. "High Street, Oxford. Sir, 
We have received Mr. John Barthwick, Senior's, draft 
for forty pounds ! " Oh! the letter 's to him! "We 
now enclose the cheque you cashed with us, which, as 
we stated in our previous letter, was not met on pre- 
sentation at your bank. We are, Sir, yours obedi- 
ently, Moss and Sons, Tailors." H 'm! [Staring at 
the cheque.] A pretty business altogether ! The boy 
might have been prosecuted. 

Mrs. Barthwick. Come, John, you know Jack 
did n't mean anything; he only thought he was over- 
drawing. I still think his bank ought to have cashed 
that cheque. They must know your position. 

Barthwick. [Replacing in the envelope the letter 
and the cheque.] Much good that would have done 
him in a court of law. [He stops as Jack comes in, 
fastening his waistcoat and staunching a razor cut upon 
his chin.] 

Jack. [Sitting down between them, and speaking 
with an artificial joviality.] Sorry I 'm late. [He 
looks lugubriously at the dishes.] Tea, please, mother. 
Any letters for me? [Barthwick hands the letter to 
him.] But look here, I say, this has been opened! I 
do wish you would n't 

Barthwick. [Touching the envelope.] I suppose 
I 'm entitled to this name. 

Jack. [Sulkily^ Well, I can't help having your 
name, father! [He reads the letter, and mutters.] 
Brutes! 

Barthwick. [Eyeing him.] You don't deserve to 
be so well out of that. 

Jack. Haven't you ragged me enough, dad? 

Mrs. Barthwick. Yes, John, let Jack have his 
breakfast. 



sc. m The Silver Box 17 

Barthwick. If you hadn't had me to come to, 
where would you have been? It 's the merest acci- 
dent — suppose you had been the son of a poor man or 
a clerk. Obtaining money with a cheque you knew 
your bank could not meet. It might have ruined you 
for life. I can't see what 's to become of you if these 
are your principles. I never did anything of the 
sort myself. 

Jack. I expect you always had lots of money. If 
you 've got plenty of money, of course 

Barthwick. On the contrary, I had not your 
advantages. My father kept me very short of 
money. 

Jack. How much had you, dad? 

Barthwick. It 's not material. The question is, 
do you feel the gravity of what you did? 

Jack. I don't know about the gravity. Of course, 
I 'm very sorry if you think it was wrong. Have n't 
I said so! I should never have done it at all if I 
had n't been so jolly hard up. 

Barthwick. How much of that forty pounds 
have you got left, Jack? 

Jack. [Hesitating.] I don't know — not much. 

Barthwick. How much? 

Jack. [Desperately.] I have n't got any. 

Barthwick. What? 

Jack. I know I 've got the most beastly headache. 
[He leans his head on his hand. 

Mrs. Barthwick. Headache? My dear boy ! 
Can't you eat any breakfast? 

Jack. [Drawing in his breath.] Too jolly bad ! 

Mrs. Barthwick. I 'm so sorry. Come with me. 
dear; I '11 give you something that will take it away 
at once. 



1 8 The Silver Box act i 

[They leave the room; and B art h wick, tearing 
up the letter, goes to the fireplace and puts 
the pieces in the fire. While he is doing 
this Marlow comes in, and looking round 
him, is about quietly to withdraw. 
Barthwick. What 's that? What d 'you want? 
Marlow. I was looking for Mr. John, sir. 
Barthwick. What d' you want Mr. John for? 
Marlow. \With hesitation.] I thought I should 
find him here, sir. 

Barthwick. [Suspiciously.] Yes, but what do 
you want him for? 

Marlow. [Offhandedly.] There 's a lady called — 
asked to speak to him for a minute, sir. 

Barthwick. A lady, at this time in the morning. 
What sort of a lady? 

Marlow. [Without expression in his voice.] I can't 
tell, sir; no particular sort. She might be after 
charity. She might be a Sister of Mercy, I should 
think, sir. 

Barthwick. Is she dressed like one? 
Marlow. No, sir, she 's in plain clothes, sir. 
Barthwick. Did n't she say what she wanted? 
Marlow. No sir. 

Barthwick. Where did you leave her? 
Marlow. In the hall, sir. 

Barthwick. In the hall? How do you know 
she 's not a thief — not got designs on the house? 
Marlow. No, sir, I don't fancy so, sir. 
Barthwick. Well, show her in here; I '11 see her 
myself. 

[Marlow goes out with a private gesture of dis- 
may. He soon returns, ushering in a young 
pale lady with dark eyes and pretty figure, in 



sc. Ill The Silver Box 19 

a modish, black, but rather shabby dress, a 
black and white trimmed hat with a bunch of 
Parma violets wrongly placed, and fuzzy- 
spotted veil. At the sight of Mr. Barth- 
wiCK she exhibits every sign of nervousness. 
Marlow goes out.] 

Unknown Lady. Oh! but — I beg pardon — 
there 's some mistake — I [She turns to fly.] 

Barthwick. Whom did you want to see, madam? 

Unknown. [Stopping and looking back.] It was 
Mr. John Barthwick I wanted to see. 

Barthwick. I am John Barthwick, madam. 
What can I have the pleasure of doing for you? 

Unknown. Oh! I — I don't [She drops her 

eyes. Barthwick scrutinises her, and purses his 
lips.] 

Barthwick. It was my son, perhaps, you wished 
to see? 

Unknown. [Quickly.] Yes, of course, it 's your son. 

Barthwick. May I ask whom I have the pleasure 
of speaking to? 

Unknown. [Appeal and hardiness upon her face.] 
My name is — oh! it does n't matter — 'I don't want to 
make any fuss. I just want to see your son for a 
minute. [Boldly.] In fact, I must see him. 

Barthwick. [Controlling his uneasiness.] My son 
is not very well. If necessary, no doubt I could attend 
to the matter; be so kind as to let me know ■ 

Unknown. Oh! but I must see him — I 've come 
on purpose — [She bursts out nervously.] I don't want 
to make any fuss, but the fact is, last — last night your 
son took away — he took away my [She stops.] 

Barthwick. [Severely.] Yes, madam, what? 

Unknown. He took away my — my reticule. 



20 The Silver Box act i 

Barthwick. Your reti ? 

Unknown. I don't care about the reticule; it's 
not that I want — I 'm sure I don't want to make any 
fuss — [her face is quivering] — but — but — all my money 
was in it ! 

Barthwick. In what — ^in what? 

Unknown. In my purse, in the reticule. It was a 
crimson silk purse. Really, I would n't have come 
— I don't want to make any fuss. But I must get 
my money back — must n't I? 

Barthwick. Do you tell me that my son ? 

Unknown. Oh! well, you see, he wasn't quite — ■ 
I mean he was [She smiles niesmerically. 

Barthwick. I beg your pardon. 

Unknown. [Stamping her foot.] Oh ! don't you 
see — tipsy ! We had a quarrel. 

Barthwick. [Scandalised.] How? Where? 

Unknown. [Defiantly.] At my place. We 'd 
had supper at the and your son 

Barthwick. [Pressing the bell.] May I ask how 
you knew this house? Did he give you his name 
and address? 

Unknown. [Glancing sidelong.] I got it out of his- 
overcoat. 

Barthwick. [Sardonically.] Oh! you got it out 
of his overcoat. And may I ask if my son will know 
you by daylight? 

Unknown. Know me? I should jolly — I mean, 
of course he will ! [Marlow comes in. 

Barthwick. Ask Mr. John to come down. 

[Marlow goes out, and Barthwick walks un- 
easily about.] 
And how long have you enjoyed his acquaintance- 
ship? 



sc. Ill The Silver Box 21 

Unknown. Only since — only since Good Friday. 
Barthwick. I am at a loss — I repeat I am at a 

loss 

[He glances at this unknown lady, wJw stands 
with eyes cast down, twisting her hands. 
And suddenly Jack appears. He stops 
on seeing who is here, and the unknown 
lady hysterically giggles. There is a 
silence.] 
Barthwick. [Portentously.] This 3^oung — er — 
lady sa3^s that last night — I think you said last night 

madam — you took away 

Unknown. [Impulsively.] My reticule, and all my 
money was in a crimson silk purse. 

Jack. Reticule. [Looking round for any chance to 
get away.] I don't know anything about it. 

Barthwick. [Sharply.] Come, do you deny see- 
ing this young lady last night? 

Jack. Den}^? No, of course. [Whispering.] Why 
did you give me away like this? What on earth did 
you come here for? 

Unknown. [Tearfully.] I 'm sure I did n't want 
to— it 's not likely, is it? You snatched it out of my 
hand — you know you did — and the purse had all my 
money in it. I did n't follow you last night because 
I did n't want to make a fuss and it was so late, and 
you were so 



Barthwick. Come, sir, don't turn your back on 
me — explain ! 

Jack. [Desperately.] I don't remember anything 
about it. [In a low voice to his friend.] Why on 
earth could n't you have written? 

Unknown. [Sidlc7ily.] I want it now; I must 
have it — I 've got to pay my rent to-da}^ [She looks 



22 The Silver Box act i 

at Barthwick.] They 're only too glad to jump on 
people who are not — not well off. 

Jack. I don't remember anything about it, really. 
I don't remember anything about last night at all. 
[He puts his hand up to his head.] It 's all — cloudy, 
and I 've got such a beastly headache. 

Unknown. But you took it; you know you did. 
You said you 'd score me off. 

Jack. Well, then, it must be here. I remember 
now — I remember something. Why did I take the 
beastly thing? 

Barthwick. Yes, why did you take the beastly — 

\He turns abruptly to the window. 

Unknown. {With her mesmeric smile.] You 

were n't quite were you? 

Jack. [Smiling pallidly.'] I 'm awfully sorry. If 

there 's anything I can do 

Barthwick. Do? You can restore this property, 
I suppose. 

Jack. I '11 go and have a look, but I really don't 
think I 've got it. 

[He goes out hurriedly. And Barthwick, 

placing a chair, motions to the visitor to 

sit; then, with pursed lips, he stands and 

eyes her fixedly. She sits, and steals a 

look at him; then turns away, and, drawing 

up her veil, steathily wipes her eyes. And 

Jack comes back.] 

Jack. [Ruefully holding out the empty reticule.] Is 

that the thing? I 've looked all over — I can't find 

the purse anywhere. Are you sure it was there? 

Unknown. [Tearfully.] Sure? Of course I 'm 
sure. A crimson silk purse. It was all the money 
I had. 



sc. ni The Silver Box 23 

Jack. I really am awfully sorry — my head 's so 
jolly bad. I 've asked the butler, but he has n't seen 
it. 

Unknown. I must have my money 

Jack. Oh! Of course— that '11 be all right; I'll 
see that that 's all right. How much? 

Unknown. [Sullenly.] Seven pounds — twelve — 
it 's all I 've got in the world. 

Jack. That 'U be all right; I '11— send you a — 
cheque. 

Unknown. [Eagerly.] No ; now, please. Give me 
what was in my purse; I 've got to pay my rent this 
morning. They won't give me another day; I 'm a 
fortnight behind already. 

Jack. [Blankly.] I 'm awfully sorry; I really 
have n't a penny in my pocket. 

[He glances steathily at Barthwick. 

Unknown. [Excitedly.] Come I say you must — ■ 
it 's my money, and you took it. I 'm not going 
away without it. They '11 turn me out of my 
place. 

Jack. [Clasping his head.] But I can't give you 
what I have n't got. Don't I tell you I have n't a 
beastly cent 

Unknown. [Tearing at her handkerchief.] Oh! do 
give it me! [She puts her hands together in appeal; 
then, with sudden fierceness.] If you don't I '11 sum- 
mons you. It 's stealing, that 's what it is! 

Barthwick. [Uneasily.] One moment, please. 
As a matter of — er — principle, I shall settle this claim. 
[He produces money.] Here is eight pounds; the 
extra will cover the value of the purse and your cab 
fares. I need make no comment — ^no thanks are 
necessary. 



24 The Silver Boit act i 

{Touching the hell, he holds the door ajar in 
silence. The unknown lady stores the 
money in her reticule, she looks from Jack 
to Barthwick, and her face is quivering 
faintly with a smile. She hides it with her 
hand, and steals away. Behind her Barth- 
wick shuts the door. 
Barthwick. \With solemnity.'] H'm! This is 
nice thing to happen ! 

Jack. {Impersonally.'] What awful luck! 
Barthwick. So this is the way that forty pounds 
has gone! One thing after another! Once more I 
should like to know where you 'd have been if it 
had n't been for me ! You don't seem to have any 
principles. You — you 're one of those who are a 
nuisance to society; you — you 're dangerous! What 
your mother would say I don't know. Your conduct, 
as far as I can see, is absolutely unjustifiable. It 's — 
it 's criminal. Why, a poor man who behaved as 
you 've done . . . d' you think he 'd have any mercy 
shown him? What you want is a good lesson. You 
and your sort are — {he speaks with feeling] — a nuisance 
to the community. Don't ask me to help you next 
time. You 're not fit to be helped. 

Jack. {Turning upon his sire, with unexpected 
fierceness.] All right, I won't then, and see how you 
like it. You would n't have helped me this time, I 
know, if you had n't been scared the thing would get 
into the papers. Where are the cigarettes? 

Barthwick. {Regarding him uneasily.] Well — • 
I '11 say no more about it. {He rings the bell] I '11 
pass it over for this once, but — [Marlow comes in.] 
You can clear away. 

{He hides his face behind the *' Times,** 



sc. Ill The Silver Box 25 

Jack. [Brightening.] I say, Marlow, where are the 
cigarettes ? 

Marlow. I put the box out with the whisky last 
night, sir, but this morning I can't find it anywhere.. 

Jack. Did you look in my room? 

Marlow. Yes, sir; I 've looked all over the house. 
I found two Nestor ends in the tray this morning, 
so you must have been smokin' last night, sir. 
[Hesitating.] I 'm really afraid some one 's purloined 
the box. 

Jack. [Uneasily.] Stolen it! 

Barthwick. What's that? The cigarette-box! 
Is anything else missing? 

Marlow. No, sir; I 've been through the plate. 

Barthwick. Was the house all right this morning? 
None of the windows open? 

Marlow. No, sir. [Quietly to Jack.] You left 
your latch-key in the door last night , sir. 

[He hands it back, unseen by Barthwick. 

Jack. Tst! 

Barthwick. Who 's been in the room this morn- 
ing? 

Marlow. Me and Wheeler, and Mrs. Jones is all, 
sir, as far as I know. 

Barthwick. Have you asked Mrs. Barthwick? 
[To Jack.] Go and ask your mother if she 's had it; 
ask her to look and see if she 's missed an3^thing 
else. [Jack goes upon this mission. 

Nothing is more disquieting than losing things like this. 

Marlow. No, sir. 

Barthwick. Have you any suspicions? 

Marlow, No, sir. 

Barthwick. This Mrs. Jones — how long has she 
been working here? 



26 The Silver Box act i 

Marlow. Only this last month, sir. 

Barthwick. What sort of person? 

Marlow. I don't know much about her, sir; 
seems a very quiet, respectable woman. 

Barthwick. Who did the room this morning? 

Marlow. Wheeler and Mrs. Jones, sir. 

Barthwick. [With his forefinger upraised.] Now, 
was this Mrs. Jones in the room alone at any time? 

Marlow. [Expressionless.] Yes, sir. 

Barthwick. How do you know that? 

Marlow. [Reluctantly.] I found her here, sir. 

Barthwick. And has Wheeler been in the room 
alone? 

Marlow. No, sir, she 's not, sir. I should say, sir, 
that Mrs. Jones seems a very honest 

Barthwick. [Holding up his hand.] 1 want to 
know this: Has this Mrs. Jones been here the whole 
morning? 

Marlow. Yes, sir — ^no, sir — she stepped over to 
the greengrocer's for cook. 

Barthwick. H'm! Is she in the house now? 

Marlow. Yes, sir. 

Barthwick. Very good. I shall make a point of 
clearing this up. On principle I shall make a point of 
fixing the responsibility; it goes to the foundations 
of security. In all your interests 

Marlow. Yes, sir. 

Barthwick. W^hat sort of circumstances is this 
Mrs. Jones in? Is her husband in work? 

Marlow. I believe not, sir. 

Barthwick. Very well. Say nothing about it to 
any one. Tell Wheeler not to speak of it, and ask 
Mrs. Jones to step up here, 

Marlow. Verv good, sir. 



sc. Ill The Silver Box 27 

[Marlow goes out, his face concerned; and 
Barthwick stays, his face judicial and 
a little pleased, as befits a man conducting 
an inquiry. Mrs. Barthwick and her son 
come in. 

Barthwick. Well, my dear, you 've not seen it, I 
suppose? 

Mrs. Barthwick. No. But what an extraordi- 
nary thing, John! Marlow, of course, is out of the 

question. I 'm certain none of the maids as for 

cook! 

Barthwick. Oh, cook! 

Mrs. Barthwick. Of course! It 's perfectly de- 
testable to me to suspect anybody. 

Barthwick. It is not a question of one 's feelings. 
It 's a question of justice. On principle — — 

Mrs. Barthwick. I should n't be a bit surprised if 
the charwoman knew something about it. It was 
Laura who recommended her. 

Barthwick. [Judicially^ I am going to have 
Mrs. Jones up. Leave it to me; and — er — remember 
that nobody is guilty until they 're proved so. I shall 
be careful. I have no intention of frightening her; I 
shall give her every chance. I hear she 's in poor cir- 
cumstances. If we are not able to do much for them 
we are bound to have the greatest sympathy with the 
poor. [Mrs. Jones comes in. 

[Pleasantly.'] Oh! good morning. Mrs. Jones. 

Mrs. Jones. [Soft, and even, tmejnphatic.] Good 
morning, sir! Good morning, ma'am! 

Barthwick. About your husband — he 's not in 
work, I hear? 

Mrs. Jones. No, sir; of course he 's not in Work 
just now. 



28 



The Silver Box 



Barthwick. 
Mrs. Jcnes. 
just now, sir. 
Barthwick. 
Mrs. Jones. 



Then I suppose he 's earning nothing. 
No, sir, he 's not earning anything 



And how many children have you? 
Three children ; but of course they 
don't eat very much sir. [.4 little silence. 

Barthwick. And how old is the eldest? 
Nine years old, sir. 
Do they go to school? 
Yes, sir, they all three go to school 



Mrs. Jones. 

Barthwick. 

Mrs. Jones. 
every day. 

Barthwick. [Severely.] And what about their 
food when you 're out at work ? 

Mrs. Jones. Well, sir, I have to give them their 
dinner to take with them. Of course I 'm not 
always able to give them anything; sometimes I 
have to send them without; but my husband is 
very good about the children when he 's in work. 
But when he 's not in work of course he 's a very 
difficult man. 

Barthwick. He drinks, I suppose? 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir. Of course I can't say he 
does n't drink, because he does. 

Barthwick. And I suppose he takes all your 
money? 

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, he 's very good about my 
money, except when he 's not himself, and then, of 
course, he treats me very badly. 

Barthwick. Now what is he — your husband? 

Mrs. Jones. By profession, sir, of course he 's a 
groom. 

Barthwick. A groom! How came he to lose his 
place ? 

Mrs. Jones. He lost his place a long time ago, sir, 



sc. Ill The Silver Box 



9 



and he 's never had a very long job since ; and now, of 
course, the motor-cars are against him. 

Barthwick. When were you married to him, 
Mrs. Jones? 

Mrs. Jones. Eight years ago, sir — that was in — 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Sharply.] Eight? You said 
the eldest child was nine. 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, ma'am; of course that was why 
he lost his place. He did n't treat me rightly, and of 
course his employer said he could n't keep him be- 
cause of the example. 

Barthwick. You mean he — ahem 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir; and of course after he lost 
his place he married me. 

Mrs. Barthwick. You actually mean to say you 
— you were 



Barthwick. My dear 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Indignantly.] How disgrace- 
ful! 

Barthwick. [Hurriedly.] And where are you 
living now, Mrs. Jones? 

Mrs. Jones. We 've not got a home, sir. Of 
course we 've been obliged to put away most of our 
things. 

Barthwick. Put your things away! You mean 
to — to — er — to pawn them? 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, to put them away. We 're 
living in Merthyr Street — that is close by here, sir — 
at No. 34. We just have the one room. 

Barthwick. And what do you pay a week? 

Mrs. Jones. We pay six shillings a week, sir, for 
a furnished room. 

Barthwick. And I suppose you 're behind in the 
rent? 



3P The Silver Box act i 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, we 're a little behind in the 
rent. 

Barthwick. But you 're in good work, are n't you? 

Mrs. Jones. Well, sir, I have a day in Stamford 
Place Thursdays. And Mondays and Wednesdays 
and Fridays I come here. But to-day, of course, is a 
half-day, because of yesterday's Bank Holiday. 

Barthwick. I see; four days a week, and you get 
half a crown a day, is that it? 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, and my dinner; but some- 
times it 's only half a day, and that 's eighteenpence. 

Barthwick. And when your husband earns any- 
thing he spends it in drink, I suppose? 

Mrs. Jones. Sometimes he does, sir, and some- 
times he gives it to me for the children. Of course he 
would work if he could get it, sir, but it seems there are 
a great many people out of work. 

Barthwick. Ah! Yes. We — er — won't go into 
that. [Sympathetically.] And how about your work 
here? Do you find it hard? 

Mrs. Jones. Oh! no, sir, not very hard, sir; ex- 
cept of course, when I don't get my sleep at night. 

Barthwick. Ah! And you help do all the 
rooms? And sometimes, I suppose, you go out for 
cook? 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir. 

Barthwick. And you 've been out this morning? 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, of course I had to go to the 
greengrocer's. 

Barthwick. Exactly. So your husband earns 
nothing? And he 's a bad character. 

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, I don't say that, sir. I think 
there 's a great deal of good in him; though he does 
treat me very bad sometimes. And of course I don't 



sc. HI The Silver Box 31 

like to leave him, but I think I ought to, because 
really I hardly know how to stay with him. He 
often raises his hand to me. Not long ago he 
gave me a blow here [touches her breast] and I can 
feel it now. So I think I ought to leave him, don't 
you, sir? 

Barthwick. Ah! I can't help you there. It's 
a very serious thing to leave your husband. Very 
serious thing. 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, of course I 'm afraid of what 
he might do to me if I were to leave him; he can be 
so very violent. 

Barthwick. H'm! Well, that I can't pretend to 
say anything about. It 's the bad principle I 'm 
speaking of 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir; I know nobody can help me. 
I know I must decide for myself, and of course I know 
that he has a very hard life. And he 's fond of the 
children, and its very hard for him to see them going 
without food. 

Barthwick. [Hastily.] Well — er — thank you, I 
just wanted to hear about you. I don't think I need 
detain you any longer, Mrs. — Jones. 

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, thank you, sir. 

Barthwick. Good morn* ^g, then. 

Mrs. Jones. Good morning, sir; good morning, 
ma'am. 

Barthwick. [Exchanging glances with his wife.] 
By the way, Mrs. Jones — I think it is only fair to tell 
you, a silver cigarette-box — er — is missing. 

Mrs. Jones. [Looking from one face to the other.] 
I am very sorry, sir. 

Barthwick. Yes; you have not seen it, I suppose? 

Mrs. Jones. [Realising that suspicion is upon her; 



32 The Silver Box act i 

with an uneasy movement.] Where was it, sir; if you 
please, sir? 

Barthwick. [Evasively.] Where did Marlow say? 
Er — in this room, yes, in this room. 

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, I have n't seen it — of course 
if I 'd seen it I should have noticed it. 

Barthwick. [Giving her a rapid glance.] You — • 
you are sure of that? 

Mrs. Jones. [Impassively.] Yes, sir. [With a 
slow nodding of her head.] I have not seen it, and of 
-course I do7t't know where it is. 

[She turns and goes quietly out. 

Barthwick. H'm! 

[The three Barthwicks avoid each other's glances.] 

The curtain falls. 



ACT II 

SCENE I 

The Jones's lodgings, Merthyr Street, at half-past two 
o'clock. 

The bare room, with tattered oilcloth and damp, dis- 
tempered walls, has an air of tidy wretchedness. 
On the bed lies Jones, half -dressed; his coat is 
thrown across his feet, and muddy boots are lying 
on the floor close by. He is asleep. The door is 
opened and Mrs. Jones comes in, dressed in a 
pinched black jacket and old block sailor hat; she 
carries a parcel wrapped up in the ''Times.'' She 
puts her parcel down, unwraps an apron, half a loaf, 
two onions, three potatoes, and a tiny piece of bacon. 
Taking a teapot from the cupboard, she rinses it, 
shakes into it some powdered tea out of a screw of 
paper, puts it on the hearth, and sitting in a wooden 
chair quietly begins to cry. 

Jones. [Stirring and yawning.] That you? What's 
the time? 

Mrs. Jones. [Drying her eyes, and in her usual 
voice.] Half-past two. 

Jones. What you back so soon for? 

Mrs. Jones. I only had the half day to-day, 
Jem. 

Jones. [On his back, and in a drowsy voice.] Got 
anything for dinner? 

3 33 



34 The Silver Box act h 

Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Barthwick's cook gave me a 
little bit of bacon. I 'm going to make a stew. [She 
prepares for cooking.] There 's fourteen shillings 
owing for rent, James, and of course I 've only got two 
and fourpence. They '11 be coming for it to-day. 

Jones. [Turning towards her on his elbow.] Let 
'em come and find my surprise packet. I 've had 
enough o' this tryin' for work. Why should I go 
round and round after a job like a bloomin' squirrel in 
a cage. "Give us a job, sir" — "Take a man on" — 
"Got a wife and three children." Sick of it I am! 
I 'd sooner lie here and rot. "Jones, you come and 
join the demonstration ; come and 'old a flag, and listen 
to the ruddy orators, and go 'ome as empty as you 
came." There 's some that seems to like that — the 
sheep! When I go seekin' for a job now, and see 
the brutes lookin' me up an' down, it 's like a thou- 
sand serpents in me. I 'm not arskin' for any treat. 
A man wants to sweat hisself silly and not allowed — • 
that 's a rum start, ain't it? A man wants to sweat 
his soul out to keep the breath in him and ain't 
allowed — that 's justice — that 's freedom and all the 
rest of it ! [He turns his face towards the wall] You 're 
so milky mild; you don't know what goes on inside 
o' me. I 'm done with the silly game. If they want 
me, let 'em come for me! 

[Mrs. Jones stops cooking and stands un- 
moving at the table.] 
I 've tried and done with it, I tell you. I 've never 
been afraid of what 's before me. You mark my 
words — if you think they 've broke my spirit, you 're 
mistook. I '11 lie and rot sooner than arsk 'em again. 
What makes you stand like that — you long-suff erin' , 
Gawd-forsaken image — that 's why I can't keep my 



sc- 1 The Silver Box 35 

hands off you. So now you know. Work ! You can 
work, but you have n't the spirit of a louse ! 

Mrs. Jones. [Quietly.] You talk more wild some- 
times when you 're yourself, James, than when you 're 
not. If you don't get work, how are we to go on? 
They won't let us stay here; they 're looking to their 
money to-day, I know. 

Jones. I see this Barthwick o' yours every day 
goin' down to Pawlyment snug and comfortable to 
talk his silly soul out; an' I see that young calf, his 
son, swellin' it about, and goin' on the razzle-dazzle. 
Wot 'ave they done that makes 'em any better than 
wot I am? They never did a day's work in their 
lives. I see 'em day after day 

Mrs. Jones. And I wish you would n't come after 
me like that, and hang about the house. You don't 
seem able to keep away at all, and whatever you 
do it for I can't think, because of course they notice 
it. 

Jones. I suppose I may go where I like. Where 
may I go? The other day I went to a place in the 
Edgware Road. "Gov'nor," I sa3^s to the boss, 
"take me on," I says. *'I 'ave n't done a stroke o' 
work not these two months; it takes the heart out 
of a man," I says; "I 'm one to work; I 'm not afraid 
of anything you can give me!" "My good man," 
'e says, "I 've had thirty of you here this morning. 
I took the first two," he says, "and that 's all I want." 
"Thank you, then rot the world!" I says. "Blas- 
phemin'," he says, "is not the way to get a job. 
Out you go, my lad!" [He laughs sardonically.] 
Don't you raise 3^our voice because you 're starvin' ; 
don't yer even think of it ; take it lyin' down ! Take it 
like a sensible man, carn't you? And a little way 



36 The Silver Box act n 

down the street a lady says to me: [Pinching his 
voice] '*D' you want to earn a few pence, my man?" 
and gives me her dog to 'old outside a shop — fat as a 
butler 'e was — tons o' meat had gone to the makin' 
of him. It did 'er good, it did, made 'er feel 'erself 
that charitable, but I see 'er lookin' at the copper 
standin' alongside o' me, for fear I should make off 
with 'er bloomin' fat dog. [He sits on the edge of the 
bed and puts a boot on. Then looking up.] What 's in 
that head o' yours? [Almost pathetically.] Carn't 
you speak for once? 

[There is a knock, and Mrs. Seddon, the land- 
lady, appears, an anxious, harassed, shabby 
woman in working clothes.] 
Mrs. Seddon. I thought I 'card you come in, Mrs. 
Jones. I 've spoke to my 'usband, but he says he 
really can't afford to wait another day. 

Jones. [With scowling jocularity.] Never you 
mind what your 'usband says, you go your own way 
like a proper independent woman. Here, Jenny, 
chuck her that. 

[Producing a sovereign from his trousers 
pocket, he throws it to his wife, who catches 
it in her apron ivith a gasp. Jones re- 
sumes the lacing of his boots.] 
Mrs. Jones. [Rubbing the sovereign stealthily^ I 'm 
very sorry we 're so late with it, and of course it 's 
fourteen shillings, so if you 've got six that will be 
right. 

[Mrs. Seddon takes the sovereign and fumbles 
for the change!] 
Jones. \]/Vith his eyes fixed on his boots.] Bit of a 
surprise for yer, ain't it? 

Mrs. Seddon. Thank you, and I 'm sure I 'm very 



sc I The Silver Box 37 

much obliged. [She does indeed appear surprised.] 
1 '11 bring you the change. 

Jones. [Mockingly.] Don't mention it. 

Mrs. Seddon. Thank you, and I 'm sm-e I 'm very 
much obliged. [She slides away. 

[Mrs. Jones gazes at Jones who is still lacing 
up his boots.] 

Jones. I 've had a bit of luck. [Ptdling out the 
crimson purse and some loose coins.] Picked up a purse 
— seven pound and more. 

Mrs. Jones. Oh, James! 

Jones. Oh, James! What about Oh, James! I 
picked it up I tell you. This is lost property, this is ! 

Mrs. Jones. But is n't there a name in it, or some- 
thing? 

Jones. Name? No, there ain't no name. This 
don't belong to such as 'ave visitin' cards. This 
belongs to a perfec' lidy. Tike an' smell it. [He 
pitches her the purse, which she puts gently to her nose.] 
Now, you tell me what I ought to have done. You 
tell me that. You can always tell me what I ought 
to ha' done, can't yer? 

Mrs. Jones. [Laying down the purse.] I can't say 
what you ought to have done, James. Of course the 
money wasn't yours; you 've taken somebody else's 
money. 

Jones. Finding 's keeping. I '11 take it as wages 
for the time I 've gone about the streets asking for 
what's my rights. I'll take it for what's overdue, 
d' ye hear? \With strange triumph.] I 've got money 
in my pocket, my girl. 

[Mrs. Jones goes on again with the prepara- 
tion of the meal, Jones looking at her fur- 
tively.] 



38 The Silver Box act n 

Money in my pocket ! And I 'm not goin' to waste it. 
With this 'ere money I 'm goin' to Canada. I '11 let 
you have a pound. [A silence.] You 've often 
talked of leavin' me. You 've often told me I treat 
you badly — well I 'ope you '11 be glad when I 'm gone. 

Mrs. Jones. [Impassively.] You have treated me 
very badly, James, and of course I can't prevent your 
going; but I can't tell whether I shall be glad when 
you 're gone. 

Jones. It '11 change my luck. I 've 'ad nothing 
but bad luck since I first took up with you. [More 
softly.] And you 've 'ad no bloomin' picnic. 

Mrs. Jones. Of course it would have been better 
for us if we had never met. We were n't meant for 
each other. But you 're set against me, that 's what 
you are, and you have been for a long time. And 
you treat me so badly, James, going after that Rosie 
and all. You don't ever seem to think of the children 
that I 've had to bring into the world, and of all the 
trouble I 've had to keep them, and what '11 become of 
them when you 're gone. 

Jones. [Crossing the room gloomily.] If you think 
I want to leave the little beggars you 're bloomin' well 
mistaken. 

Mrs. Jones. Of course I know you 're fond of them. 

Jones. [Fingering the purse, half angrily.] Well, 
then, you stow it, old girl. The kids '11 get along 
better with you than when I 'm here. If I 'd ha' 
known as much as I do now, I 'd never ha' had one o' 
them. What 's the use o' bringin' 'em into a state 
o' things like this? It 's a crime, that 's what it is; 
but you find it out too late ; that 's what 's the matter 
with this 'ere world. 

[He puts the purse back in his pocket,] 



s- ^ The Silver Box 39 

Mrs. Jones. Of course it would have been better 
for them, poor little things; but they're your own 
children, and I wonder at you talkin' like that. I 
should miss them dreadfully if I was to lose them. 

Jones. [Sullenly.] An' you ain't the only one. 

If I make money out there [Looking up, he sees 

her shaking out his coat — in a changed voice.] Leave 
that coat alone ! 

[The silver box drops from the pocket, scatter- 
ing the cigarettes upon the bed. Taking up 
the box she stares at it; he rushes at her and 
snatches the box away.] 

Mrs. Jones. [Cowering back against the bed.] Oh, 
Jem! oh, Jem! 

Jones. [Dropping the box on to the table.] You mind 
what you 're sayin' ! When I go out I '11 take and 
chuck it in the water along with that there purse. 
I 'ad it when I was in liquor, and for what you do 
when you 're in liquor you 're not responsible — and 
that 's Gawd's truth as you ought to know. I don't 
want the thing — I won't have it. I took it out o' 
spite. I 'm no thief, I tell you; and don't you call 
me one, or it '11 be the worse for you. 

Mrs. Jones. [Twisting her apron strings.] It 's 
Mr. Barth wick's ! You 've taken away my reputa- 
tion. Oh, Jem, whatever made you? 

Jones. What d' you mean? 

Mrs. Jones. It 's been missed ; they think it's me. 
Oh! whatever made you do it, Jem? 

Jones. I tell you I was in liquor. I don't want it ; 
what 's the good of it to me? If I were to pawn it 
they 'd only nab me. I 'm no thief. I 'm no worse 
than wot that young Barth wick is; he brought 
'ome that purse that I picked up — a lady's purse — 



40 The Silver Box act h 

'ad it off 'er in a row, kept sayin' 'e 'd scored 'er 
off. Well, I scored 'im off. Tight as an owl 'e 
was! And d' you think anything '11 happen to 
him? 

Mrs. Jones. [As though speaking to herself.] Oh, 
Jem! it 's the bread out of our mouths! 

Jones. Is it then? I '11 make it hot for 'em yet. 
What about that purse? What about young Barth- 
wick? 

[Mrs. Jones comes forward to the table and 
tries to take the box; Jones prevents her.] 
What do you want with that? You drop it, I say! 

Mrs. Jones. I '11 take it back and tell them all 
about it. [She attempts to wrest the box from him, 

Jones. Ah, would yer? 

[He drops the box, and rushes on her with a 

snarl. She slips back past the bed. He 

folloivs; a chair is overturned. The door 

is opened; Snow comes in, a detective in 

plain clothes and bowler hat, with clipped 

moustaches. Jones drops his arms, Mrs. 

Jones stands by the window gasping; Snow, 

advancing swiftly to the table, puts his hand 

on the silver box. 

Snow. Doin' a bit o' skylarkin'? Fancy this is 

what I 'm after. J. B., the very same. [He gets back 

to the door, scrutinising the crest and cypher on the box. 

To Mrs. Jones.] I 'm a police officer. Are you Mrs. 

Jones? 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir. 

Snow. My instructions are to take you on a charge 
of stealing this box from J. Barthwick, Esquire, M.P., 
of 6, Rockingham Gate. Anything you say may be 
used against you. Well, Missis? 



sc. I The Silver Box 41 

Mrs. Jones. [In her quiet voice, still out of breafJi, 
her hand upon her breast.] Of course I did not take it, 
sir. I never have taken anything that did n't belong 
to me ; and of course I know nothing about it. 

Snow. You were at the house this morning; you 
did the room in which the box was left; you were 
alone in the room. I find the box 'ere. You say you 
did n't take it? 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, of course I say I did not take 
it, because I did not. 

Snow. Then how does the box come to be here? 

Mrs. Jones. I would rather not say anything 
about it. 

Snow. Is this your husband? 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir, this is my husband, sir. 

Snow. Do you wish to say anything before I take 
her? 

[Jones remains silent, with his head bent 
down.] 
Well then. Missis. I '11 just trouble you to come along 
with me quietly. 

Mrs. Jones. [Twisting her hands.] Of course I 
would n't say I had n't taken it if I had — and I did n't 
take it, indeed I did n't. Of course I know appear- 
ances are against me, and I can't tell you what really 
happened. But m}^ children are at school, and 
they'll be coming home — and I don't know what 
they '11 do without me ! 

Snow. Your 'usband '11 see to them, don't you 
worry. [He takes the woman gently by the arm. 

Jones. You drop it — she 's all right! [Sullenly.] 
I took the thing myself. 

Snow. [Eyeing him] There, there, it does you 
credit. Come along, Missis. 



42 The Silver Box act h 

Jones. [Passionately.] Drop it, 1 say, you bloom- 
ing teck. She 's my wife ; she 's a respectable woman. 
Take her if you dare ! 

Snow. Now, now. What's the good of this? 
Keep a civil tongue, and it '11 be the better for all of 
us. 

[He puts his whistle in his mouth and draws 

the woman to the door.] 

Jones. [With a rush.] Drop her, and put up your 

'ands, or I '11 soon make yer. You leave her alone, 

will yer! Don't I tell yer, I took the thing myself! 

Snow. [Blowing his whistle.] Drop your hands, 

or I '11 take you too. Ah, would you? 

[Jones, closing, deals him a blow. A Police- 
man in uniform appears; there is a short 
struggle and Jones is overpowered. Mrs. 
Jones raises her hands and drops her face 
on them. 

The cvirtain falls. 

SCENE II 

[The Bart H wicks' dining-room the same evening. The 
Barthwicks are seated at dessert.] 
Mrs. Barthwick. John! [-4 silence broken by 
the cracking of nuts.] John! 

Barthwick. I wish you 'd speak about the nuts — 
they 're uneatable. [He puts one in his mouth. 

Mrs. Barthwick. It 's not the season for them. 
I called on the Holyroods. 

[Barthwick fiUs his glass with port. 
Jack. Crackers, please, Dad. 

[Barthwick passes the crackers. His de- 
meanour is reflective. 



s<'- II The Silver Box 43 

Mrs. Barthwick. Lady Holyrood has got very 
stout. I 've noticed it coming for a long time. 

Barthwick. [Gloomily.] Stout? [He takes up 
the crackers — with transparent airiness.] The Holy- 
roods had some trouble with their servants, had n't 
they? 

Jack. Crackers, please. Dad. 

Barthwick. [Passing the crackers.] It got into 
the papers. The cook, was n't it? 

Mrs. Barthwick. No, the lady's maid. I was 
talking it over with Lady Holyrood. The girl used to 
have her young man to see her. 

Barthwick. [Uneasily.] I 'm not sure they were 
wise 

Mrs. Barthwick. My dear John, what are you 
talking about? How could there be any alternative? 
Think of the effect on the other serv^ants ! 

Barthwick. Of course in principle — I wasn't 
thinking of that. 

Jack. [Maliciotisly.] Crackers, please. Dad. 

[Barthwick is compelled to pass the crackers. 

Mrs. Barthwick. Lady Holyrood told me: "I 
had her up," she said; "I said to her, 'You '11 leave 
my house at once; I think your conduct disgraceful. 
I can't tell, I don't know, and I don't wish to know, 
what you were doing. I send you away on principle ; 
you need not come to me for a character.' And the 
girl said: 'If you don't give me my notice, my lady, 
I want a month's wages. I 'm perfectly respectable. 
I 've done nothing.' " — Done nothing ! 

Barthwick. H'm! 

Mrs. Barthwick. Servants have too much li- 
cense. They hang together so terribly you never 
can tell what they 're really thinking; it 's as if they 



44 The Silver Box act n 

were all in a conspiracy to keep you in the dark. Even 
with Marlow, you feel that he never lets you know 
what 's really in his mind. I hate that secretiveness ; 
it destroys all confidence. I feel sometimes I should 
like to shake him. 

Jack. Marlow 's a most decent chap. It 's simply 
beastly every one knowing your affairs. 

Barthwick. The less you say about that the 
better ! 

Mrs. Barthwick. It goes all through the lower 
classes. You can not tell when they are speaking the 
truth. To-day when I was shopping after leaving 
the Holyroods, one of these unemployed came up 
and spoke to me. I suppose I only had twenty yards 
or so to walk to the carriage, but he seemed to spring 
up in the street. 

Barthwick. Ah! You must be very careful 
whom you speak to in these days. 

Mrs. Barthwick. I did n't answer him, of course. 
But I could see at once that he was n't telling the 
truth. 

Barthwick. [Cracking a nut.] There 's one very 
good rule — look at their eyes. 

Jack. Crackers, please, Dad. 

Barthwick. [Passing the crackers.] If their eyes 
are straightforward I sometimes give them sixpence. 
It 's against my principles, but it 's most difficult to 
refuse. If you see that they 're desperate, and dull, 
and shifty-looking, as so many^of them are, it 's cer- 
tain to mean drink, or crime, or something unsatis- 
factory. 

Mrs. Barthwick. This man had dreadful eyes. 
He looked as if he could commit a murder. *' I 've 'ad 
nothing to eat to-day," he said. Just like that. 



sc. II The Silver Box 45 

Barthwick. What was William about? He ought 
to have been waiting. 

Jack. [Raising his wine-glass to his nose.] Is this 
the '63, Dad? 

[Barthwick, holding his wine-glass to his eye, 
lowers it and passes it before his nose.] 

Mrs. Barthwick. I hate people that can't speak 
the truth. [Father and son exchange a look behind 
their port.] It 's just as easy to speak the truth as not. 
/ 've always found it easy enough. It makes it impos- 
sible to tell what is genuine; one feels as if one were 
continually being taken in. 

Barthwick. [Sententiously.] The lower classes 
are their own enemies. If they would only trust us, 
they would get on so much better. 

Mrs. Barthwick. But even then it 's so often their 
own fault. Look at that Mrs. Jones this morning. 

Barthwick. I only want to do what 's right in 
that matter. I had occasion to see Roper this after- 
noon. I mentioned it to him. He 's coming in this 
evening. It all depends on what the detective says. 
I 've had my doubts. I 've been thinking it over. 

Mrs. Barthwick. The woman impressed me most 
unfavourably. She seemed to have no shame. That 
affair she was talking about — she and the man when 
they were young, so immoral! And before you and 
Jack! I could have put her out of the room! 

Barthwick. Oh! I don't want to excuse them, 
but in looking at these matters one must consider 

Mrs. Barthwick. Perhaps you '11 say the man's 
employer was wrong in dismissing him? 

Barthwick. Of course not. It 's not there that I 
feel doubt. What I ask myself is 

Jack. Port, please, Dad. 



46 The Silver Box act u 

Barthwick. [Circulating the decanter in religious 
imitation of the rising and setting of the sun.'l I ask 
myself whether we are sufficiently careful in making 
inquiries about people before we engage them, 
especially as regards moral conduct. 

Jack. Pass the port, please, Mother! 

Mrs. Barthwick. {Passing it.'] My dear boy, 
are n't you drinking too much? 

\]kck fills his glass. 

Marlow. {Entering!] Detective Snow to see you, 
sir. 

Barthwick. {Uneasily.] Ah! say I '11 be with 
him in a minute. 

Mrs. Barthwick. {Without turning.] Let him 
come in here, Marlow, 

[Snow enters in an overcoat, his howler hat in 
hand.] 

Barthwick. {Half -rising.] Oh! Good evening! 

Snow. Good evening, sir; good evening, ma'am. 
I 've called round to report what I 've done, rather 
late, I 'm afraid — another case took me away. {He 
takes the silver box out of his pocket, causing a sensation 
in the Barthwick family.] This is the identical 
article, I beheve. 

Barthwick. Certainly, certainly. 

Snow. Havin' your crest and cypher, as you de- 
scribed to me, sir, I 'd no hesitation in the matter. 

Barthwick. Excellent. Will you have a glass of 
{he glances at the waning port] — er — sherry — {pours 
out sherry]. Jack, just give Mr. Snow this. 

[Jack rises and gives the glass to Snow; then, 
lolling in his chair, regards him indolently.] 

Snow. {Drinking off wine and putting down the 
glass.] After seeing you I went round to this woman's 



sc. II The Silver Box 47 

lodgings, sir. It 's a low neighborhood, and I thought 
it as well to place a constable below — and not without 
'e was wanted, as things turned out. 

Barthwick. Indeed! 

Snow. Yes, sir, I 'ad some trouble. I asked her 
to account for the presence of the article. She could 
give me no answer, except to deny the theft ; so I took 
her into custody; then her husband came for me, so 
I was obliged to take him, too, for assault. He was 
very violent on the way to the station — very violent 
— threatened you and your son, and altogether he 
was a handful, I can tell you. 

Mrs. Barthwick. What a ruffian he must be! 

Snow. Yes, ma'am, a rough customer. 

Jack. [Sipping his wine, bemused.] Punch the 
beggar's head. 

Snow. Given to drink, as I understand, sir. 

Mrs. Barthwick. It 's to be hoped he will get a 
severe punishment. 

Snow. The odd thing is, sir, that he persists in 
sayin' he took the box himself. 

Barthwick. Took the box himself! [He smiles.] 
What does he think to gain by that? 

Snow. He says the young gentleman was intoxi- 
cated last night — -[Jack stops the cracking of a nut, and 
looks at Snow. Barthwick, losing his smile, has put 
his wine-glass down; there is a silence — Snow, looking 
from face to face, remarks] — took him into the house 
and gave him whisky; and under the influence of an 
empty stomach the man says he took the box. 

Mrs. Barthwick. The impudent wretch! 

Barthwick. D' you mean that he — er — intends 
to put this forward to-morrow 

Snow. That '11 be his line, sir; but whether he 's 



48 The Silver Box act h 

endeavouring to shield his wife, or whether [he looks 
at Jack] there 's something in it, will be for the 
magistrate to say. 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Haughtily.] Something in 
what? I don't understand you. As if my son would 
- bring a man like that into the house ! 

Barthwick. [From the fireplace, with an effort to be 
calm.] My son can speak for himself, no doubt. — 
Well, Jack, what do you say? 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Sharply.] What does he say? 
Why, of course, he says the whole story 's stuff! 

Jack. [Embarrassed.] Well, of course, I — of 
course, I don't know anything about it. 

Mrs. Barthwick. I should think not, indeed! 
[To Snow.] The man is an audacious ruffian! 

Barthwick. [Suppressing jumps.] But in view 
of my son's saying there 's nothing in this — this fable 
— will it be necessary to proceed against the man 
under the circumstances? 

Snow. We shall have to charge him with the 
assault, sir. It would be as well for your son to come 
down to the Court. There '11 be a remand, no doubt. 
The queer thing is there was quite a sum of money 
found on him, and a crimson silk purse. [Barthwick 
starts; Jack rises and sits down again.] I suppose 
the lady has n't missed her purse? 

Barthwick. [Hastily.] Oh, no! Oh! No! 

Jack. No! 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Dreamily.] No! [To Snow.] 
I 've been inquiring of the servants. This man does 
hang about the house. I shall feel much safer if he 
gets a good long sentence ; I do think we ought to be 
protected against such ruffians. 

Barthwick. Yes, yes, of course, on principle — • 



sc. II The Silver Box 49 

but in this case we have a number of things to think of. 
[To Snow.] I suppose, as you say, the man must be 
charged, eh? 

Snow. No question about that, sir. 

Barthwick. [Staring gloomily at Jack.] This 
prosecution goes very much against the grain with me. 
I have great sympathy with the poor. In my posi- 
tion I 'm bound to recognise the distress there is 
amongst them. The condition of the people leaves 
much to be desired. D' you follow me? I wish I 
could see my way to drop it. 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Sharply.] John! it's simply 
not fair to other people. It 's putting property at the 
mercy of any one who likes to take it. 

Barthwick, [Trying to make signs to her aside.'] 
I 'm not defending him, not at all. I 'm trying to 
look at the matter broadly. 

Mrs. Barthwick. Nonsense, John, there 's a time 
for everything. 

Snow. [Rather sardonically.'] I might point out, 
sir, that to withdraw the charge of stealing would 
not make much difference, because the facts must 
come out [he looks significantly at Jack] in reference 
to the assault; and as I said that charge will have to 
go forward. 

Barthwick. [Hastily.] Yes, oh! exactly! It's 
entirely on the woman's account — entirely a matter 
of my own private feelings. 

Snow. If I were you, sir, I should let things 
take their course. It 's not likely there '11 be 
much difficulty. These things are very quick 
settled. 

Barthwick. [Doubtfully.] You think so — you 
think so? 



50 The Silver Box act u 

Jack. [Rousing himself.] I say, what shall I have 
to swear to? 

Snow. That 's best known to yourself, sir. [Re- 
treating to the door.] Better employ a solicitor, sir, 
in case anything should arise. We shall have the 
butler to prove the loss of the article. You '11 excuse 
me going, I 'm rather pressed to-night. The case 
may come on any time after eleven. Good evening, 
sir; good evening, ma'am. I shall have to produce 
the box in court to-morrow, so if you '11 excuse me, 
sir, I may as well take it with me. 

[He takes the silver box and leaves them with a 

little bow.] 
[Barthwick makes a move to follow him, then 
dashing his hands beneath his coat tails, 
speaks with desperation.] 

Barthwick. I do wish you 'd leave me to manage 
things myself. You will put your nose into matters 
you know nothing of. A pretty mess you 've made 
of this! 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Coldly.] I don't in the least 
know what you 're talking about. If you can't 
stand up for your rights, I can. I 've no patience 
with your principles, it 's such nonsense. 

Barthwick. Principles! Good Heavens! What 
have principles to do with it for goodnes ssake? 
Don't you know that Jack was drunk last night! 

Jack. Dad! 

Mrs. Barthwick. [In horror rising.] Jack! 

Jack. Look here, Mother — I had supper. Every- 
body does. I mean to say — you know what I mean 
— it 's absurd to call it being drunk. At Oxford 
everybody gets a bit "on" sometimes 



sc. II The Silver Box 51 

Mrs. Barthwick. Well, I think it's most dread- - 
ful! If that is really what you do at Oxford ■ 

Jack. [Angrily.] Well, why did you send me 
there? One must do as other fellows do. It 's such 
nonsense, I mean, to call it being drunk. Of course 
I 'm awfully sorry. I 've had such a beastly headache 

all day. 

Barthwick. Tcha! If you 'd only had the com- 
mon decency to remember what happened when you 
came in. Then we should know what truth there 
was in what this fellow sa3rs— as it is, it 's all the most 
confounded darkness. 

Jack. [Staring as though at half-formed visions.] I 
just get a — and then — it 's gone— — 

Mrs. Barthw'ick. Oh, Jack! do you mean to say 
you were so tipsy you can't even remember 

Jack. Look here, Mother ! Of course I remember 
I came — I must have come 

Barthwick. [Unguardedly, and walking up and 
down.] Tcha!-— and that infernal purse! Good 
Heavens! It '11 get into the papers. Who on earth 
could have foreseen a thing like this? Better to 
have lost a dozen cigarette-boxes, and said nothing 
about it. [To his wife.] It's all your doing. I 
told you so from the first. I wish to goodness Roper 
livould come! 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Sharply.] I don't know what 
you 're talking about, John. 

Barthwick. [Turning on her.] No, you— you— 
you don't know anything! [Sharply.] Where the 
devil is Roper? If he can see a way out of this he 's 
a better man than I take him for. I defy any one to 
see a way out of it. / can't. 

Jack. Look here, don't excite Dad— I can simply 



52 The Silver Box act n 

say I was too beastly tired, and don't remember any- 
thing except that I came in and [in a dying voice] 
went to bed the same as usual. 

Barthwick. Went to bed? Who knows where 
you went — I 've lost all confidence. For all I know 
you slept on the floor. 

Jack. [Indignantly.] I did n't, I slept on the 

Barthwick. [Sitting on the sofa.] Who cares 
where you slept; what does it matter if he mentions 
the — ^the — a perfect disgrace? 

Mrs. Barthwick. What ? [A silence.] li nsist 
on knowing. 

Jack. Oh! nothing 

Mrs. Barthwick. Nothing? What do you mean 
by nothing, Jack? There 's your father in such a 
state about it 

Jack. It 's only my purse. 

Mrs. Barthwick. Your purse! You know per- 
fectly well you have n't got one. 

Jack. Well, it was somebody else's — it was all a 
joke — I did n't want the beastly thing 

Mrs. Barthwick. Do you mean that you had 
another person's purse, and that this man took it 
too? 

Barthwick. Tcha! Of course he took it too! 
A man like that Jones will make the most of it. It 'U 
get into the papers. 

Mrs. Barthwick. I don't understand. What on 
earth is all the fuss about? [Bending over Jack, and 
softly.) Jack now, tell me dear! Don't be afraid. 
What is it? Come! 

Jack. Oh, don't Mother! <r 

Mrs. Barthwick. But don't what, dear? 

Jack. It was pure sport. I don't know how I got 



SC. II 



The Silver Box 53 



the thing. Of course I 'd had a bit of a row— I 
did n't know what I was doing— I was— I was— well, 
you know— I suppose I must have pulled the bag 
out of her hand. 

Mrs. Barthwick. Out of her hand? Whose 
hand ? What bag— whose bag ? 

Jack. Oh! I don't know— her bag— it belonged 
iQ — [in a desperate and rising voice] a woman. 
Mrs. Barthwick. A woman? OhI Jack! No! 
Jack. [Jumping up.] You womd have it. I 
did n't want to tell you. It 's not my fault. ^ 

[The door opens and Marlow ushers in a man 
of middle age, inclined to corpulence, in even- 
ing dress. He has a ruddy, thin moustache, 
and dark, quick-moving little eyes. His 
eyebrows are Chinese. 
Marlow. Mr. Roper, sir. [He leaves the room. 

Roper. [With a quick look round.] How do you 

do? 

[But neither Jack nor Mrs. Barthwick make a sign. 

Barthwick. [Hurrying.] Thank goodness you 've 
come, Roper. You remember what I told you this 
afternoon; we 've just had the detective here. 

Roper. Got the box? 

Barthwick. Yes, yes, but look here— it was n't 
the charwoman at all; her drunken loafer of a husband 
took the things— he says that fellow there [he waves 
his hand at Jack, who with his shoulder raised, seems 
trying to ward off a blow] let him into the house last 
night. Can you imagine such a thing. 

[Roper laughs. 

Barthwick. [With excited emphasis.] It's no 
laughing matter, Roper. I told you about that busi- 
ness of Jack's too— don't you see— the brute took 



54 The Silver Box act u 

both the things — took that infernal purse. It 11 get 
into the papers. 

Roper. [Raising his eyebrows.] H'm! The purse! 
Depravity in high life ! What does your son say ? 

Barthwick. He remembers nothing. D n! 

Did you ever see such a mess? It '11 get into the 
papers. 

Mrs. Barthwick. [With her hand across her eyes.] 

Oh ! it 's not that 

[Barthwick and Roper turn and look at 
her.] 
Barthwick. It 's the idea of that woman — she 's 

just heard 

[Roper nods. And Mrs. Barthwick, set- 
ting her lips, gives a slow look at Jack, and 
sits down at the table.] 
What on earth 's to be done, Roper? A ruffian like 
this Jones will make all the capital he can out of that 
purse. 

Mrs. Barthwick. I don't believe that Jack took 
that purse. 

Barthwick. What — when the woman came here 
for it this morning? 

Mrs. Barthwick. Here? She had the impu- 
dence? Why was n't I told? 

[She looks round from face to face — tw one 
answers her, there is a pause.] 
Barthwick. [Suddenly.] What 's to be done, 
Roper? 

Roper. [Quietly to Jack.] I suppose you did n't 
leave your latch-key in the door? 
Jack. [Sullenly.] Yes, I did. 
Barthwick. Good heavens! What next? 
Mrs. Barthwick. I 'm certain yovi never let that 



sc. II The Silver Box 55 

man into the house, Jack, it 's a wild invention. I 'm 
sure there 's not a word of truth in it, Mr. Roper. 

Roper. [Very suddenly,] Where did you sleep 
last night? 

Jack. [Promptly.] On the sofa, there — [hesitat- 
ing] that is — I 

Barthwick. On the sofa? D' you mean to say 
you did n't go to bed? 

Jack. [Sullenly.] No. 

Barthwick. If you don't remember anything, 
how can you remember that? 

Jack. Because I woke up there in the morning. 

Mrs. Barthwick. Oh, Jack! 

Barthwick. Good Gracious! 

Jack. And Mrs. Jones saw me. I wish you 
would n't bait me so. 

Roper. Do you remember giving any one a drink? 

Jack. By Jove, I do seem to remember a fellow 

with — a fellow with [He looks at Roper.] I say, 

d' you want me ? 

Roper. [Quick as lightning.] With a dirty face? 

Jack. [With illumination.] I do — ^I distinctly re- 
member his 

[Barthwick moves abruptly; Mrs. Barth- 
wick looks at Roper angrily, and touches 
her son's arm.] 

Mrs. Barthwick. You don't remember, it 's 
ridiculous! I don't believe the man was ever here 
at all. 

Barthwick. You must speak the truth, if it is the 
truth. But if you do remember such a dirty business, 
I shall wash my hands of you altogether. 

Jack. [Glaring at them.] Well, what the devil 

Mrs. Barthwick. Jack! 



$6 The Silver Box act n 

Jack. Well, Mother, I — I don't know what you do 
want. 

• Mrs. Barthwick. We want you to speak the 
truth and say you never let this low man into the 
house. 

Barthwick. Of course if you think that you 
really gave this man whisky in that disgraceful way, 
and let him see what you 'd been doing, and were in 
such a disgusting condition that you don't remember a 
word of it 

Roper. [Quick.] I 've no memory myself — never 
had. 

Barthwick. [Desperately.] I don't know what 
you 're to say. 

Roper [To Jack.] Say nothing at all! Don't 
put yourself in a false position. The man stole the 
things or the woman stole the things, you had nothing 
to do with it. You were asleep on the sofa. 

Mrs. Barthwick. Your leaving the latch-key in 
the door was quite bad enough, there's no need 
to mention anything else. [Touching his forehead 
softly.] My dear, how hot your head is ! 

Jack. But I want to know what I 'm to do. [Pas- 
sionately.] I won't be badgered like this. 

[Mrs. Barthwick recoils from him. 

Roper. [Very quickly.] You forget all about it. 
You were asleep. 

Jack. Must I go down to the Court to-morrow? 

Roper. [Shaking his head.] No. 

Barthwick. [In a relieved voice.] Is that so? 

Roper. Yes. 

Barthwick. But you 'II go. Roper. 

Roper. Yes. 

Jack. [With wan cheerfulness.] Thanks, awfully! 



sc. II The Silver Box 57 

So long as I don't have to go. [Putting his hand up to 
his head.] I think if you '11 excuse me — I 've had a 
most beastly day. [He looks from his father to his 
mother.] 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Turning quickly.] Goodnight, 
my boy. 

Jack. Good-night, Mother. 

[He goes out. Mrs. Barthwick heaves a 
sigh. There is a silence.] 

Barthwick. He gets off too easily. But for my 
money that woman would have prosecuted him. 

Roper. You find money useful. 

Barthwick. I 've my doubts whether we ought 
to hide the truth 

Roper. There '11 be a remand. 

Barthwick, What! D' you mean he'll have to 
appear on the remand. 

Roper. Yes. 

Barthwick. H'm, I thought you 'd be able to 

Look here, Roper, you must keep that purse out of the 
papers. [Roper fixes his little eyes on him and 
nods.] 

Mrs. Barthwick. Mr. Roper, don't you think the 
magistrate ought to be told what sort of people these 
Jones's are; I mean about their immorality before 
they were married. I don't know if John told you. 

Roper. Afraid it 's not material. 

Mrs. Barthwick. Not material? 

Roper. Purely private life! May have happened 
to the magistrate. 

Barthwick. \With a movement as if to shift a bur- 
den.] Then you '11 take the thing into your hands? 

Roper. If the gods are kind. [He holds his hand 
out.] 



S8 The Silver Box act h 

Barthwick. [Shaking it dubiously.] Kind — eh? 
What? You going? 

Roper. Yes. I 've another case, something like 
yours — ^most unexpected. 

[He bows to Mrs. Barthwick, and goes out, 
followed by Barthwick, talking to the last, 
Mrs. Barthwick at the table bursts into 
smothered sobs. Barthwick returns.] 

Barthwick. [To himself.] There '11 be a scandal! 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Disguising her grief at once,] I 
simply can't imagine what Roper means by making 
a joke of a thing like that! 

Barthwick. [Staring strangely.] You! You can't 
imagine anything! You 've no more imagination 
than a fly! 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Angrily.] You dare to tell me 
that I have no imagination. 

Barthwick. [Fhtstered.] I — I 'm upset. From 
beginning to end, the whole thing has been utterly 
-against my principles. 

Mrs. Barthwick. Rubbish! You haven't any! 
Your principles are nothing in the world but sheer — 
fright! 

Barthwick. \Walking to the window.] I 've 
never been frightened in my life. You heard what 
Roper said. It 's enough to upset one when a thing 
like this happens. Everything one says and does 
seems to turn in one's mouth — it 's — it 's uncanny. 
It 's not the sort of thing I 've been accustomed 
to. [As though stifling, he throws the window open. 
The faint sobbing of a child comes in.] What 's 
that? 

[They listen. 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Sharply.] I can't stand that 



sc. 11 The Silver Box 59 

crying. I must send Marlow to stop it. My nerves 
are all on edge. [She rings the bell, 

Barthwick. I '11 shut the window; you '11 hear 
nothing. [He shuts the window. There is silence. 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Sharply.] That's no good! 
It 's on my nerves. Nothing upsets me like a child's 
crying. [Marlow comes in.] What 's that noise of 
crying, Marlow? It sounds like a child. 

Barthwick. It is a child. I can see it against the 
railings. 

Marlow. [Opening the window, and looking out — 
quietly.] It's Mrs. Jones's little boy, ma'am; he 
came here after his mother. 

Mrs. Barthwick. [Moving quickly to the window.] 
Poor little chap! John, we ought n't to go on with 
this! 

Barthwick. [Sitting heavily in a chair.] Ah! 
but it 's out of our hands! 

[Mrs. Barthwick turns her back to the win- 
dow. There is an expression of distress on 
her face. She stands motionless, compress- 
ing her lips. The crying begins again. 
Barthwick covers his ears with his hands, 
and Marlow shuts the window. The cry- 
ing ceases.] 

The curtain falls. 



ACT III 

Eight days have passed, and the scene is a London 
Police Court at one o'clock. A canopied seat of 
Justice is surmounted by the lion and unicorn. 
Before the fire a worn-looking Magistrate is 
warming his coat-tails, and staring at two little 
girls in faded blue and orange rags, who are placed 
before the dock. Close to the witness-box is a Re- 
lieving Officer in an overcoat, and a short brown 
beard. Beside the Utile girls stands a bald Police 
Constable. On the front bench are sitting Barth- 
wicK and Roper, and behind them Jack. In the 
mailed enclosure are seedy-looking men and women. 
Some prosperous constables sit or stand about. 
Magistrate. \ln his paternal and ferocious voice, 
hissing his s's."] Now let us dispose of these young 
ladies. 

Usher. Theresa Livens, Maud Livens. 

\The bald Constable indicates the little girls, 
who remain silent, disillusioned, inatten- 
tive^ 
Relieving Officer! 

{The Relieving Officer steps into the witness- 
box.] 
Usher. The evidence you give to the Court shall 
be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the 
truth, so help you God! Kiss the book! 

{The book is kissed. 
60 



ACT m The Silver Box 6r 

Relieving Officer. [In a monotone, pausing 
slightly at each sentence end, that his evidence may he 
inscribed.'] About ten o'clock this morning, your 
Worship, I found these two Httle girls in Blue Street, 
Pulham, crying outside a public-house. Asked where 
their home was, they said they had no home. Mother 
had gone away. Asked about their father. Their 
father had no work. Asked where they slept last 
night. At their aunt's. I *ve made inquiries, your 
Worship. The wife has broken up the home and gone 
on the streets. The husband is out of work and living 
in common lodging-houses. The husband's sister has 
eight children of her own, and says she can't afford 
to keep these little girls any longer. 

Magistrate. [Returning to his seat beneath the 
canopy of Justice.] Now, let me see. You say the 
mother is on the streets; what evidence have you of 
that? 

Relieving Officer. I have the husband here, 
your Worship. 

Magistrate. Very well; then let us see him. 

[There are cries of "Livens." The Magis- 
trate leans forward, and -stares with hard 
compassion at the little girls. Livens 
comes in. He is quiet, with grizzled hair, 
and a muffler for a collar. He stands 
beside the witness-box.] 
And you are their father? Now, why don't you 
keep your little girls at home. How is it you leave 
them to wander about the streets like this? 

Livens. I 've got no home, your Worship. I 'm 
living from 'and to mouth. I 've got no work; and 
nothin' to keep them on. 
Magistrate. How is that? 



62 The Silver Box act m 

Livens. [Ashamedly.] My wife, she broke my 
'ome up, and pawned the things. 

Magistrate. But what made you let her? 

Levins. Your Worship, I 'd no chance to stop 'er; 
she did it when I was out lookin' for work. 

Magistrate. Did you ill-treat her? 

Livens. [Emphatically.] I never raised my 'and 
to her in my life, your Worship. 

Magistrate. Then what was it — did she drink? 

Livens. Yes, your Worship. 

Magistrate. Was she loose in her behaviour? 

Livens. [In a low voice.] Yes, your Worship. 

Magistrate. And where is she now? 

Livens. I don't know your Worship. She went 
off with a man, and after that I • 

Magistrate. Yes, yes. Who knows anything of 
her? [To the bald Constable.] Is she known here? 

Relieving Officer. Not in this district, your 
Worship; but I have ascertained that she is well 
known 

Magistrate. Yes — yes; we '11 stop at that. Now 
[To the Father] you say that she has broken up your 
home, and left these little girls. What provision 
can you make for them? You look a strong man. 

Livens. So I am, your Worship. I 'm willin' 
enough to work, but for the life of me I can't get 
anything to do. 

Magistrate. But have you tried? 

Livens. I 've tried everything, your Worship — 
I 've tried my 'ardest. 

Magistrate. Well, well [There is a silence. 

Relieving Officer. If your Worship thinks it 's a 
case, my people are willing to take them. 

Magistrate. Yes, yes, I know; but I 've no evi- 



ACT m The Silver Box 63 

dence that this man is not the proper guardian for 
his children. [He rises and goes back to the fire. 

Relieving Officer. The mother, your Worship, 
is able to get access to them. 

Magistrate. Yes, yes ; the mother, of course, is an 
improper person to have anything to do with them. 
[To the Father.] Well, now what do you say? 

Livens. Your Worship, I can only say that if I 
could get work I should be only too willing to pro- 
vide for them. But what can I do, your Worship? 
Here I am obliged to live from 'and to mouth in 
these 'ere common lodging-houses. I 'm a strong 
man — I 'm willing to work — I 'm half as alive again 
as some of 'em — ^but you see, your Worship, my 'airs' 
turned a bit, owing to the fever — [Touches his hair] — ■ 
and that's against me; and I don't seem to get a 
chance anyhow. 

Magistrate. Yes — yes. [Slowly.] Well, I think 
it 's a case. [Staring his hardest at the little girls.] 
Now, are you willing that these little girls should be 
sent to a home. 

Livens. Yes, your Worship, I should be very 
willing. 

Magistrate. Well, I '11 remand them for a week. 
Bring them again to-day week; if I see no reason 
against it then, I '11 make an order. 

Relieving Officer. To-day week, your Worship. 

[The bald Constable takes the little girls out 

by the shoulders. The father follows them. 

The Magistrate, returning to his seat, 

bends over and talks to his Clerk inaudibly.] 

Barthwick. [Speaking behind his hand.] A pain- 
ful case. Roper; very distressing state of things. 

Roper. Hundreds like this in the Police Courts. 



64 The Silver Box act m 

Barthwick. Most distressing! The more I see of 
it, the more important this question of the condition 
of the people seems to become. I shall certainly 
make a point of taking up the cudgels in the House. 
I shall move — ■ — • 

[The Magistrate ceases talking to his Clerk. 

Clerk. Remands! 

{Barthwick stops abruptly. There is a stir and Mrs. 
Jones comes in by the public door; Jones, ushered 
by policemen, comes from the prisoner's door. 
They file into the dock.] 

Clerk. James Jones, Jane Jones. 
Usher. Jane Jones! 

Barthwick. [In a whisper.] The purse — the 
purse must be kept out of it, Roper. Whatever hap- 
pens you must keep that out of the papers. 

[Roper nods. 
Bald Constable. Hush! 

[Mrs. Jones, dressed in her thin, black, wispy 

dress, and black straw hat, stands motionless 

with hands crossed on the front rail of the 

dock. Jones leans against the back rail of 

the dock, and keeps half turning, glancing 

defiantly about him. He is haggard and 

unshaven.] 

Clerk. [Consulting with his papers.] This is the 

case remanded from last Wednesday, sir. Theft of 

a silver cigarette-box and assault on the police; the 

two charges were taken together. Jane Jones ! James 

Jones! 

Magistrate. [Staring.] Yes, yes ; I remember. 
Clerk. Jane Jones. 



ACT III The Silver Box 65 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, sir. 

Clerk. Do you admit stealing a silver cigarette- 
box valued at five pounds, ten shillings, from the 
house of John Barthwick, M.P., between the hours 
of II P.M. on Easter Monday and 8.45 a.m. on Easter 
Tuesday last? Yes, or no? 

Mrs. Jones. [In a low voiced No, sir, I do not, sir. 

Clerk. James Jones? Do you admit stealing a 
silver cigarette-box valued at five pounds, ten shillings, 
from the house of John Barthwick, M.P., between the 
hours of II P.M. on Easter Monday and 8.45 a.m. on 
Easter Tuesday last. And further making an assault 
on the police when in the execution of their duty at 
3 P.M. on Easter Tuesday? Yes or no? 

Jones. [Sullenly.'] Yes, but I 've got a lot to say 
about it. 

Magistrate. [To the Clerk.] Yes — yes. But 
how comes it that these two people are charged with 
the same offence? Are they husband and wife? 

Clerk. Yes, sir. You remember you ordered a 
remand for further evidence as to the story of the 
male prisoner. 

Magistrate. Have they been in custody since? 

Clerk. You released the woman on her own recog- 
nisances, sir. 

Magistrate. Yes, yes, this is the case of the silver 
box; I remember now. Well? 

Clerk. Thomas Marlow. 

[The cry of "Thomas Marlow" is repeated. 
Marlow comes in, and steps into the wit- 
ness-hox.] 

Usher. The evidence you give to the court shall 
be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the 
truth, so help you God. Kiss the book. 



66 The Silver Box act m 

[The book is kissed. The silver box is handed 
up, and placed on the rail] 

Clerk. [Reading 'from his papers.] Your name is 
Thomas Marlow? Are you butler to John Barth- 
wick, M.P., of 6, Rockingham Gate? 

Marlow. Yes, sir. 

Clerk. Is that the box? 

Marlow. Yes sir. 

Clerk. And did you miss the same at 8.45 on the 
following morning, on going to remove the tray? 

Marlow. Yes, sir. 

Clerk. Is the female prisoner known to you? 

[Marlow nods. 

Is she the charwoman employed at 6, Rockingham 
Gate? 

[Again Marlow nods. 

Did you at the time of your missing the box find 
her in the room alone? 

Marlow. Yes, sir. 

Clerk. Did you afterwards communicate the loss 
to your employer, and did he send you to the police 
station ? 

Marlow. Yes, sir. 

Clerk. [To Mrs. Jones.] Have you anything to 
ask him? 

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, nothing, thank you, sir. 

Clerk. [To Jones.] James Jones, have you any- 
thing to ask this witness? 

Jones. I don't know 'im. 

Magistrate. Are you sure you put the box in the 
place you say at the time you say? 

Marlow. Yes, your Worship. 

Magistrate. Very well; then now let us have the 
officer. 



ACT III The Silver Box 67 

[Marlow leaves the box, and Snow goes into it. 

Usher. The evidence you give to the court shall 
be the truth, the whole truth, and notliing but the 
truth, so help you God. [The book is kissed. 

Clerk. [Reading from his papers.] Your name is 
Robert Snow? You are a detective in the X. B. 
division of the Metropolitan police force? According 
to instructions received did you on Easter Tuesday 
last proceed to the prisoner's lodgings at 34, Merthyr 
Street, St. Soames's? And did you on entering see 
the box produced, lying on the table? 

Snow. Yes, sir. 

Clerk. Is that the box? 

Snow. [Fingering the box.] Yes, sir. 

Clerk. And did you thereupon take possession of 
it, and charge the female prisoner with theft of the 
box from 6, Rockingham Gate? And did she deny the 



same 



Snow. Yes, sir. 

Clerk. Did you take her into custody? 

Snow. Yes, sir. 

Magistrate. What was her behaviour? 

Snow. Perfectly quiet, your Worship. She per- 
sisted in the denial. That 's all. 

Magistrate. Do you know her? 

Snow. No, your Worship. 

Magistrate. Is she known here? 

Bald Constable. No, your Worship, they 're 
neither of them known, we 've nothing against them 
at all. 

Clerk. [To Mrs. Jones.] Have you anything to 
ask the officer? 

Mrs. Jones. No, sir, thank you, I 've nothing to 
ask him. 



68 The Silver Box act m 

Magistrate. Very well then — go on. 

Clerk. [Reading from his papers.] And while you 
were taking the female prisoner did the male prisoner 
interpose, and endeavour to hinder you in the execu- 
tion of your duty, and did he strike you a blow? 

Snow. Yes, sir. 

Clerk. And did he say, "You let her go, I took 
the box myself " ? 

Snow. He did. 

Clerk. And did you blow your whistle and obtaia 
the assistance of another constable, and take him 
into custody? 

Snow. I did. 

Clerk. Was he violent on the way to the station, 
and did he use bad language, and did he several 
times repeat that he had taken the box himself? 

[Snow nods. 

Did you thereupon ask him in what manner he 
had stolen the box? And did you understand him 
to say he had entered the house at the invitation of 
young Mr. Barthwick 

[Barthwick, turning in his seat, frowns at 
Roper.] 
after midnight on Easter Monday, and partaken of 
-whisky, and that under the influence of the whisky 
lie had taken the box? 

Snow. I did, sir. 

Clerk. And was his demeanour throughout very 
violent? 

Snow. It was very violent. 

Jones. [Breaking in.] Violent — of course it was! 
You put your 'ands on my wife when I kept tellin* 
you I took the thing myself. 

Magistrate. [Hissing, with protruded neck.] Now 



ACT III The Silver Box 69 

— you will have your chance of saying what you 
want to say presently. Have you anything to ask the 
officer? 

Jones. [Stdlenly.] No. 

Magistrate. Very well then. Now let us hear 
what the female prisoner has to say first. 

Mrs. Jones. Well, your Worship, of course I can 
only say what I 've said all along, that I did n't take 
the box. 

Magistrate. Yes, but did you know that it was 
taken ? 

Mrs. Jones. No, your Worship. And, of course, 
to what my husband says, your Worship, I can't 
speak of my own knowledge. Of course, I know 
that he came home very late on the Monday night. 
It was past one o'clock when he came in, and he was 
not himself at all. 

Magistrate. Had he been drinking? 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, your Worship. 

Magistrate. And was he drunk? 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, your Worship, he was almost 
quite drunk. 

Magistrate. And did he say anything to you? 

Mrs. Jones. No, your Worship, only to call me 
names. And of course in the morning when I got 
up and went to work he was asleep. And I don't 
know anything more about it until I came home 
again. Except that Mr. Barthwick — that 's my em- 
ployer, your Worship — told me the box was missing. 

Magistrate. Yes, yes. 

Mrs. Jones. But of course when I was shaking out 
my husband's coat the cigarette-box fell out and all 
the cigarettes were scattered on the bed. 

Magistrate. You say all the cigarettes were 



70 The Silver Box act m 

scattered on the bed? [To Snow.] Did you see 
the cigarettes scattered on the bed? 

Snow. No, your Worship, I did not. 

Magistrate. You see he says he did n't see them. 

Jones. Well, they were there for all that. 

Snow. I can't say, your Worship, that I had the 
opportunity of going round the room; I had all my 
work cut out with the male prisoner. 

Magistrate. [To Mrs. Jones.] Well, what more 
have you to say? 

Mrs. Jones. Of course when I saw the box, your 
Worship, I was dreadfully upset, and I could n't think 
why he had done such a thing; when the officer 
came we were having words about it, because 
it is ruin to me, your Worship, in my profes- 
sion, and I have three little children dependent 
on me. 

Magistrate. [Protruding his neck]. Yes — yes — 
but what did he say to you? 

Mrs. Jones. I asked him whatever came over him 
to do such a thing — and he said it was the drink. 
He said he had had too much to drink, and some- 
thing came over him. And of course, your Worship, 
he had had very little to eat all day, and the drink 
does go to the head when you have not had enough 
to eat. Your Worship may not know, but it is the 
truth. And I would like to say that all through his 
married life, I have never known him to do such 
a thing before, though we have passed through great 
hardships and [speaking with soft emphasis] I am quite 
sure he would not have done it if he had been him- 
self at the time. 

Magistrate. Yes, yes. But don't you know that 
that is no excuse? 



ACT Hi The Silver Box 71 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, your Worship. I know that it 
is no excuse. 

[The Magistrate leans over and parleys with 
his Clerk.] 

Jack. [Leaning over from his seat behind.] I say, 
Dad 

B arthwick. Tsst ! [Sheltering his mouth he speaks 
to Roper.] Roper, you had better get up now 
and say that considering the circumstances and the 
poverty of the prisoners, we have no wish to proceed 
any further, and if the magistrate would deal with the 
case as one of disorder only on the part of 

Bald Constable. Hssshh! 

[Roper shakes his head. 

Magistrate. Now, supposing what you say and 
what your husband says is true, what I have to con- 
sider is — how did he obtain access to this house, 
and were you in any way a party to his obtaining 
access? You are the charwoman employed at the 
house? 

Mrs. Jones. Yes, your Worship, and of course if I 
had let him into the house it would have been very 
wrong of me ; and I have never done such a thing in 
any of the houses where I have been employed. 

Magistrate. Well — so you say. Now let us hear 
what story the male prisoner makes of it. 

Jones. [Who leans with his arms on the dock behind, 
speaks in a slow, sullen voice.] Wot I say is wot my 
wife says. I 've never been 'ad up in a police court 
before, an' I can prove I took it when in liquor. I 
told her, and she can tell you the same, that I was 
goin' to throw the thing into the water sooner then 'ave 
it on my mind. 

Magistrate. But how did you get into the house f 



72 The Silver Box act m 

Jones. I was passin'. I was goin' 'ome from the 
"Goat and Bells." 

Magistrate. The "Goat and Bells," — what is 
that? A public-house? 

Jones. Yes, at the comer. It was Bank 'oliday, 
an' I'd 'ad a drop to drink. I see this young Mr. 
Barthwick tryin' to find the keyhole on the wrong 
side of the door. 

Magistrate. Well? 

Jones. [Slowly and with many pauses.] Well — • 
— I 'elped 'im to find it — drunk as a lord 'e was. He 
goes on, an' comes back again, and says, I 've got 
nothin' for you, 'e says, but come in an' 'ave a drink. 
So I went in just as you might 'ave done yourself. We 
'ad a drink o' whisky just as you might have 'ad, 'nd 
young Mr. Barthwick says to me, "Take a drink 'nd 
a smoke. Take anything you like, 'e says." And 
then he went to sleep on the sofa. I 'ad some more 
whisky — an' I 'ad a smoke — and I 'ad some more 
whisky — an* I carn't tell yer what 'appened after 
that. 

Magistrate. Do 3^ou mean to say that you were 
so drunk that you can remember nothing? 

Jack. [Softly to his father.] I say, that 's exactly 
what 

Barthwick. Tssh! 

Jones. That 's what I do mean. 

Magistrate. And yet you say you stole the 
box? 

Jones. I never stole the box. I took it. 

Magistrate. [Hissing with protruded neck.] You 
did not steal it — you took it. Did it belong to you — 
what is that but -stealing? 

Jones. I took it. 



ACT III The Silver Box 73 

Magistrate. You took it — you took it away from 

their house and you took it to your house 

Jones. [Sullenly breaking in.] I ain't got a house. 
Magistrate. Very well, let us hear what this 
young man Mr. — Mr. Barthwick — has to say to your 
story. 

[Snow leaves the witness-box. The Bald 

Constable beckons Jack, who, clutching 

his hat, goes into the witness-box. Roper 

moves to the table set apart for his profession. 

Swearing Clerk. The evidence you give to the 

court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing 

but the truth, so help you God. Kiss the book. 

[The book is kissed. 
Roper. [Examining.] What is your name? 
Jack. [In a low voice.] John Barthwick, Junior. 

[The Clerk writes it down. 
Roper. Where do you live? 
Jack. At 6, Rockingham Gate. 

[.4/^ his answers are recorded by the Clerk. 
Roper. You are the son of the owner? 
Jack. [In a very low voice.] Yes. 
Roper. Speak up, please. Do you know the 
prisoners ? 

Jack. [Looking at the Joneses, in a low voice.] 
I 've seen Mrs. Jones. I — [in a loud voice] don't know 
the man. 

Jones. Well, I know you! 
Bald Constable. Hssh! 

Roper. Now, did you come in late on the night of 
Easter Monday? 
Jack. Yes. 

Roper. And did you by mistake leave your latch- 
key in the door? 



74 The Silver Box act m 

Jack. Yes. 

Magistrate, Oh! You left your latch-key in the 
door? 

Roper. And is that all you can remember about 
your coming in? 

Jack. [In a loud voice.] Yes, it is. 

Magistrate. Now, you have heard the male pris- 
oner's story, what do you say to that? 

Jack. [Turning to the Magistrate, speaks suddenly 
in a confident, straightforward voice.] The fact of the 
matter is, sir, that I 'd been out to the theatre that 
night, and had supper afterwards, and I came in 
late. 

Magistrate. Do you remember this man being 
outside when you came in? 

Jack. No, sir. [He hesitates.] I don't think I do. 

Magistrate. [Somewhat puzzled.] Well, did he 
help you to open the door, as he says? Did any one 
help you to open the door? 

Jack. No, sir — I don't think so, sir — I don't know. 

Magistrate. You don't know? But you must 
know. It isn't a usual thing for you to have the 
door opened for you, is it? 

Jack. [With a shamefaced smile.] No. 

Magistrate. Very well, then 

Jack. [Desperately.] The fact of the matter is, 
sir, I 'm afraid I 'd had too much champagne that 
night. 

Magistrate. [Smiling.] Oh I you 'd had too 
much champagne? 

Jones. May I ask the gentleman a question? 

Magistrate. Yes — yes — you may ask him what 
questions you like. 

Jones. Don't you remember you said you was a 



ACT jii The Silver Box 75 

Liberal, same as your father, and you asked me wot 
I was? 

Jack. [With his hand against his brow.] I seem to 
remember 

Jones. And I said to you, *'I 'm a bloomin' Con- 
servsitive,'* I said; an' you said to me, "You look 
more like one of these *ere Socialists. Take wotever 
you like," you said. 

Jack. [With sudden resolution.] No, I don't. I 
don't remember anything of the sort. 

Jones. Well, I do, an' my word 's as good as yours. 
I 've never been had up in a police court before. 
Look 'ere, don't you remember you had a sky-blue 
bag in your 'and [Barthwick jumps. 

Roper. I submit to your worship that these ques- 
tions are hardly to the point, the prisoner having 
admitted that he himself does not remember any- 
thing. [There is a smile on the face of Justice.] It is a 
case of the blind leading the blind. 

Jones. [Violently.] I 've done no more than wot 
he 'as. I 'm a poor man; I 've got no money an' no 
friends — he 's a toff — he can do wot I can't. 

Magistrate. Now, now! All this won't help you 
— you must be quiet. You say you took this box? 
Now, what made you take it? Were you pressed 
for money? 

Jones. I 'm always pressed for money. 

Magistrate. Was that the reason you took 
it? 

Jones. No. 

Magistrate. [To Snow.] Was anything found on 
him? 

Snow. Yes, your worship. There was six pounds 
twelve shillin's found on him, and this purse. 



76 The Silver Box act m 

[The red silk purse is handed to the Magis- 
trate. Barthwick rises in his seat, but 
hastily sits down again. ] 
Magistrate:. [Star^^Mg at the purse.] Yes, yes — - 

let me see [There is a silence.] No, no, I 've 

nothing before me as to the purse. How did you 
come by all that money? 

Jones. [After a long pause, suddenly.] I declines 
to say. 

Magistrate. But if you had all that money, what 
made you take this box? 

Jones. I took it out of spite. 
Magistrate. [Hissing, with protruded neck.] You 
took it out of spite? Well now, that 's something! 
But do you imagine you can go about the town taking 
things out of spite? 

Jones. If you had my life, if you 'd been out of 

work 

Magistrate. Yes, yes; I know — because you're 

out of work you think it 's an excuse for everything. 

Jones. [Pointing at Jack.] You ask 'im wot 

made 'im take the 

Roper. [Quietly.] Does your Worship require this 
witness in the box any longer? 

Magistrate. [Ironically.] I think not; he is 
hardly profitable. 

[Jack leaves the witness-box, and hanging his 
head, resumes his seat.] 
Jones. You ask 'im wot made 'im take the 

lady's 

[But the Bald Constable catches him by the 
sleeve.] 
Bald Constable. Sssh! 
Magistrate. [Emphatically.] Now listen to me. 



ACT III The Silver Box 77 

I 've nothing to do with what he may or may not 
have taken. Why did you resist the police in the 
execution of their duty? 

Jones. It war n't their duty to take my wife, a 
respectable woman, that 'ad n't done nothing. 

Magistrate. But I say it was. What made you 
strike the officer a blow? 

Jones. Any man would a struck 'im a blow. I 'd 
strike 'im again, I would. 

Magistrate. You are not making your case any 
better by violence. How do you suppose we could 
get on if everybody behaved like you? 

Jones. [Leaning forward, earnestly.] Well, wot 
about 'er; who 's to make up to 'er for this? Who 's 
to give 'er back 'er good name? 

Mrs. Jones. Your Worship, it 's the children 
that 's preying on his mind, because of course I 've 
lost my work. And I 've had to find another room 
owing to the scandal. 

Magistrate. Yes, yes, I know — but if he had n't 
acted like this nobody would have suffered. 

Jones. [Glaring round at Jack.] I 've done no 
worse than wot 'e 'as. Wot I want to know is wot 's 
goin' to be done to 'im. 

[The Bald Constable again says ''Hssh!'* 

Roper. Mr. Barthwick wishes it known, your 
Worship, that considering the poverty of the prison- 
ers he does not press the charge as to the box. Per- 
haps your Worship would deal with the case as one of 
disorder. 

Jones. I don't want it smothered up, I want it all 
dealt with fair — I want my rights 

Magistrate. [Rapping his desk.] Now you have 
said all you have to say, and you will be quiet. " 



78 The Silver Box act m 

[There is a silence; the Magistrate bends 
over and parleys with his Clerk.] 
Yes, I think I may discharge the woman. ■ [In a 
kindly voice he addresses Mrs. Jones, who stands un- 
moving with her hands crossed on the rail] It is very- 
unfortunate for you that this man has behaved as he 
has. It is not the consequences to him but the 
consequences to you. You have been brought here 
twice, you have lost your work — [He glares at Jones] 
and this is what always happens. Now you may go 
away, and I am very sorry it was necessary to bring 
you here at all. 

Mrs. Jones. [Sojtly.] Thank you very much, your 
Worship. 

[She leaves the dock, and looking hack a/ Jones, 
twists her fingers and is still] 
Magistrate. Yes, yes, but I can't pass it over. 
Go away, there 's a good woman. 

[Mrs. Jones stands back. The Magistrate 

leans his head on his hand: then raising it 

he speaks to Jones.] 

Now, listen to me. Do you wish the case to be 

settled here, or do you wish it to go before a 

jury? 

Jones. [Muttering.] I don't want no jury. 
Magistrate. Very well then, I will deal with it 
here. [After a pause.] You have pleaded guilty to 
stealing this box — 

Jones. Not to stealin' — 
Bald Constable. Hssshh! 

Magistrate. And to assaulting the police 

Jones. Any man as was a man 

Magistrate. Your conduct here has been most 
improper. You give the excuse that you were 



ACT III The Silver Box 79 

drunk when you stole the box. I tell you that is no 
excuse. If you choose to get drunk and break the 
law afterwards you must take the consequences. 
And let me tell you that men like you, who get 
drunk and give way to your spite or whatever 
it is that 's in you, are — are — a nuisance to the 
community. 

Jack. [Leaning from his seat] Dad! that 's what 
you said to me ! 
Barthwick. Tsst! 

[There is a silence, while the Magistrate 

consults his Clerk; Jones leans forward 

waiting.] 

Magistrate. This is your first offence, and I 

am going to give you a light sentence. [Speaking 

sharply, but without expression.] One month with 

hard labour. 

[He bends, and parleys with his Clerk. The 

Bald Constable and another help Jones 

from the dock. 

Jones. [Stopping and twisting round.] Call this 

justice? What about 'im? 'E got drunk! 'E took 

the purse — 'e took the purse but [in a muffled shout] 

it 's 'is money got 'im off — Justice ! 

[The prisoner's door is shut on Jones, and 
from the seedy-looking men and women 
comes a hoarse and whispering groan.] 
Magistrate. We will now adjourn for lunch! 
[He rises from his seat.] 

[The Court is in a stir. Roper gets up 
and speaks to the reporter. Jack, 
throwing up his head, walks with a 
swagger to the corridor; Barthwick 
follows. 



So The Silver Box act m 

Mrs. Jones. [T timing to him with a humble gesture.'] 

Oh! sir! 

[Barthwick hesitates, then yielding to his 
nerves, he makes a shame-faced gesture of 
refusal, and hurries out of court. Mrs. 
Jones stands looking after him.] 

The curtain falls. 




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